


THE ART OF HEALING

by scarletwritingwolf



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-04 17:59:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13370145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletwritingwolf/pseuds/scarletwritingwolf
Summary: Sawny and a Sassenach meet as wee’uns but are soon torn apart. Claire becomes a psychologist, and Jamie a soldier trying to exit war. Will fate force them together again, and if so, what other chaos might it bring with it?





	1. PROLOGUE

Hazel eyes peered out from behind dense shrubbery. They were staring intently at a young boy playing on the edges of her family land.  
She was new to this beautiful Scottish country; her family having only lived there for the past two months. She was lonely, and still felt like a stranger in its vastness.

She continued to watch the boy curiously, he had the most captivating hair, it was red and almost shoulder length. He moved about with easy grace, movements dictated by confidence and knowing one’s position in the world. 

Glancing at her Minnie Mouse wrist watch to check the time, she wondered if she ought to start back towards her house. She’d ventured further than she’d meant, and further than she was allowed to go, she really didn’t relish in the idea of getting into trouble with her parents.  
But she stayed to watch the boy anyway, she had no mind to go back just yet.  
…

He was running about in the clearing, swiping the air with a stick, using all of the Gaelic curse words he wasn’t supposed to use, angry at his sister for always assuming she knew better. “Cacan”….. “Duin do ghob”…. “Taigh nam gasta ort”..

This clearing was his place, his escape, his hidden gem, where no one ever found him. Where he could hide from the confines of family life; a life so steeped in tradition that it was tedious. How he wished for change.  
… 

She wrestled internally, unsure if she should emerge from the shadows and reveal herself. After a couple of minutes deliberating she finally decided to step out, wanting, with overwhelming curiosity now, to know more about this boy with his shiny ruddy, coppery hair.  
She walked towards him, watching him eyeing her suspiciously from a distance. She immediately sensed him trying to understand where she had materialised from.  
…

The youngest of the Fraser clan stood stock still, and watched as the dark haired girl walked towards him, her hair was more curly and unruly than anyone else’s he’d ever seen, and it was full of dead leaves and weeds. He privately thought that she looked as though she’d been living wild for a year, at least. 

He had an inkling about who this strange girl might be. Rumour in town was that a couple of Sassenach’s had moved onto the land neighbouring his family farm, he supposed this must be their daughter, it was told that she was a most peculiar girl. She was every bit as odd looking as they had described; tall and wild haired, with mud caked clothes. 

She was within a metre of him now, and she’d extended a hand, opening her mouth to give some sort of an introduction he supposed. Before she could utter a word he said grinning “Ye have te be the Sassenach?” his eyes glinting with wickedness.  
A look of mild surprise and shock crossed her face and she instantly dropped her hand, probably because his overfamiliarity was unexpected, but she recovered quickly, and said “I suppose I am that. And what shall I call you?”  
“Ye can call me Sawny, everyone else does. So Sassenach, do ye want to play? I’m in fierce need of a duelling partner.”  
… 

So they played, and continued to do so, whenever they had an opportunity.  
Without anyone else’s knowledge, they would sneak off and meet on the edges of their land and practice duelling, go swimming in the freezing pond, or simply lay in the lush, green expanse of the clearing, staring at wispy cloud shapes as they went by. 

It was uncomplicated, neither asked questions, and at the same time neither revealed answers. They were simply Sawny and Sassenach, two children; who in the world they had created didn’t have troubles at school, or come from headstrong families.

These secret meetings happened for close to a year.

On a sunny, spring Saturday he came strolling over towards the border that separated her family land from his. She looked up as she heard his footsteps approaching, the cool breeze blowing his beautiful hair about. But something was amiss on this day, he wasn’t walking with the same confidence, and the look on his face showed heartbreaking sadness.  
Closing the book she had been reading, and picking up the bunch of sweet honeysuckle flowers she’d picked for them to eat, she made her way towards him.

“Hello Sassenach” he said dejectedly.

“Sawny, what’s the matter?” Her voice was full of panic and worry. 

She looked into his bright blue eyes, almond shaped and full of emotion, searching them for meaning.  
...

He sighed, pausing a moment to look at his feet, and continuing to avoid her gaze, said “I canna see ye anymore Sassenach, I’ll be 11 next week, and my Da says it means that I must go te boarding school in Paris. I ken we never mention our families, or anythin’ really Sassenach, but I dinna want to go.” There, he thought, he’d told her everything, now he might be able to breathe with some ease again, and the excruciating pain in his stomach might dissipate.  
...

All of a sudden she felt like her heart was beating out of her chest, her ears were ringing, and her brain had momentarily stopped functioning. She was mentally skimming through all of the books she’d read; was this what dying felt like? What were these feelings, this physical reaction?

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of emotion, and simply suppress it. 

She eventually choked out the words “I’m sorry Sawny.”  
Every word hurt, her breathing was shallow. “When will you have to leave?”  
...

“Da says I’m te leave on Monday, I’m te stay with my Uncle in Paris ‘til I finish my studies. I’ll be gone these next five years or so.”  
He had hoped to spend one more afternoon with her, but his courage was quickly fading, he felt like he might cry at any moment, he didn’t want her to see him reduced to tears. 

He took her hands in his. She was refusing to look at him, he closed his eyes and tried to dedicate her to his memory. He continued slowly, trying to be brave “It will be alright Sassenach. My Da and my Mam canna afford to fly me back and forth, so I’ll settle for looking forward to seeing ye everyday until we see one another again.”

She didn’t answer, she just sunk to the ground, hoping that it might swallow her up. He sank with her. 

“I’ll miss ye Sassenach. I’ll miss reading together, our duels, riding the bus together an’ us silently judging people and ye trying to poison me with yer parents wee herbs.”  
...

At that she laughed a small laugh, she remembered that day vividly. She had accidentally picked sweet sage, rather than the honeysuckle. Sawny had been the first to taste it, and although it wasn’t poisonous, the flavour of it created a most unbelievable sensation of eating smoke, not to mention it felt like one’s oesophagus was constricting.  
He had insisted that she was trying to poison him. She had rolled around with laughter at his response, swearing black and blue that she hadn’t meant it. He'd looked at her with such a serious expression as she laughed she thought he might have been cross, when suddenly he lunged at her and tried to tickle her half to death. His sense of humour ever unwavering. 

How could he be leaving her? How could he?!

“I’ll miss you too Sawny.” She said in a strange strangled voice. He continued to sit in silence beside her. Both of them lost in their own thoughts for a time. 

Without warning, she got to her feet, adjusted her hair with grace, and said in her most formal voice “Well Sawny, I wish I could ask you to write, but I regret that my parents would not like a strange boy corresponding with me, I must bid you farewell now.” She extended her hand, just as she had done when they’d first met. 

He took her hand, shook it, but held on a little forcefully.

“Dinna be mad Sassenach, ye could stay a little while longer, perhaps one last duel?”

“Unfortunately I can’t, I really must be going.” She freed her hand from his and spun on her heel, walking away at a harried pace, making sure not to look back.  
Her eyes were smarting with tears; she was careful not to be seen wiping them away, so she let them flow, all the while promising herself never to think of him again.  
...

He called after her “SASSENACH! Come back!” Her body visibly stiffened as he called, but she did not turn around.  
“Ifrinn” was the last thing he said under his breath as he stared angrily at her disappearing form. He was certain that she was waiting for him to run after her, but, being the stubborn Fraser he was, turned around for home.


	2. Chapter 1: First Day Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation from the Prologue.  
> Claire begins her first day at the practice, it is there she has an encounter with a stranger that leaves her rattled.

THE ART OF HEALING - Chapter 1: First Day Ghosts

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp was having a good look around at her new office, being rather critical of its emptiness.  
She needed to inject this office with a little homeliness and personality, something that would assure her patients and make them feel comfortable and at home.  
. . . . . .

The office had the staple pieces of furniture; a large oak desk, with a big white wing chair on one side of it, and two smaller oak chairs on the other. On the opposite side of the room there was an enormous cowhide rug with two grey armchairs plonked, rather haphazardly, on it. The only thing hanging on the walls, in a modest frame, was my very recently acquired master’s degree in psychology.  
Other than that, there wasn’t a plant, painting or trinket in sight. I began making a mental list of all the things I’d need; side tables, two plants, a couple of simple canvases, a table lamp and a floor lamp, and most definitely stationary and pieces for the desk that would give a person no doubt that it was mine.

I felt the draft of the frigidly cold day we were having in Scotland, as my office door was opened and my old friend and new boss, Joe, walked in.

“So Jane, what do you think of the digs?” he said in his American drawl.

“It’s incredible Joe, the space has been set up perfectly.” I felt my gratitude for all of his kindness turn into a sudden flow of unstoppable word vomit.  
“And I won’t say that I’m not thrilled you decided to stay in Edinburgh to practice, not just because you offered me a job once I’d finished. I do feel terrible that another poor graduate soul missed out on the opportunity.” I smiled guiltily, it had been very nice of Joe to wait the additional year after he had finished his own degree (and mentoring), before hiring anyone to assist him, to ensure that the place would go to me.

He knew well enough that I couldn’t afford to set up my own practice, however Joe’s father had left him a sum of money to do just that, and good old faithful Joe stuck to his promise, starting practice almost immediately after finishing his degree and supervisory period last year.

I’d already made several mental notes to repay him for the rest of my existence.

Neither Joe or I were strictly native to Edinburgh, and in that respect it was an even greater comfort to the soul to have a familiar face to turn to.  
Joe had had difficulty getting into an Ivy League college anywhere in America, and having no interest in community college, knew his next best bet was to find a University in Europe that would agree to have him, so Edinburgh it was.

With relentless determination and persistence that superseded all who had studied Psychology before him, he finished at the top of his class, leaving his mark on the place he had adopted as home for the five years previous.  
To this day I am still unsure of the true reason Joe decided to stay on in Edinburgh once he had finished his studies, I suspected it had to do with his lack of connection to anything else and that we had become such fast friends. Now with Gail in the picture, I was sure he wasn’t living in a single moment of regret.

I, on the other hand, had a far more complicated reason for finding myself in Edinburgh; it wasn’t where I was born, but I had spent much of my life here, and it had eventually come to feel like home for me, despite the loneliness of it at times. Pursuing my studies, and finding a friend in Joe, is what consistently kept me from escaping the many painful memories of Edinburgh and moving as far away as I could manage.

“Don’t think on it Lady Jane, I’m glad you like it, so reckon you could be happy here?” He looked somewhere between expectant and smug, waiting for what I would say next.

“Oh most definitely” I replied with vigour, hesitating before letting the next words tumble out of my mouth. “Although it is practically bare aside from the staple pieces of furniture, I would like to make it my own, if you don’t mind.”

“My Lady Jane, I’d have been disappointed if you didn’t want to make changes.” He said, eyes twinkling with humour. “Shall we go and look for some things to fill up the space? Don’t tell me now that you haven’t already made a list, because the Claire I know would never have been so unprepared.”

I tried to look demure, while plastering the best shocked look I could muster upon my face.

“Alright, you’ve got me, I have a list. Any complaints about going antiquing?” I grinned slyly, knowing full well he’d hate it, for Joe loved to hate the junk (or so he called it) that I collected from antiquing stores. I chose not to mention that I had collected a small number of these items because they were a gentle reminder of someone very dear to me, someone whose life’s work was searching for treasures not entirely dissimilar to those found on the dusty shelves of antique stores.

“I’ve offered now, I suppose I can’t back out.” Joe said good naturedly, returning a toothy smile. “Let’s go.”  
. . . . . .

She returned to her office that same evening, arms laden with her purchases. After several trips back to her car to gather the other pieces she’d picked up, she began the set up.

After the first half hour had passed she was still battling with her flat pack coffee table, and had begun to lose faith in her abilities to live without a man, or at least without the supervision of one.

She sent Joe a text:  
C: Starting to wish I’d taken you up on your invite to stay for dinner, this flat pack nonsense is giving me hell :)

J: I told you to stay! But I knew you’d refuse, you would never have started your career with a half done office. You’ll get there Jane. Can’t wait to see the décor magic you create.

Putting her phone down, determined to stick out the task she’d set for herself, she picked up the tools and started to work again.

A further two hours had passed; after the victory with the coffee table she’d managed to set up almost entirely. There were now muted canvases hanging on the walls, plants in two corners of the room, the afore mentioned coffee table nestled between the comfortable armchairs (that now held cushions), the table was decked out with tissues and a small abstract sculpture of a human brain.

Lastly she’d set up her desk with all the stationary she would need (likely enough for the next 10 years as well), a bespoke lamp, a telephone and the most beautiful antique gold clock.

The gold clock reminded her, almost painfully, of her dear Uncle Lamb, it was very similar to one that he had once had sitting at his extremely untidy desk in Oxford. The clock had been an acquisition he was most proud of, how he had loved to regale her with the epic tales of his archaeological conquests.  
She wished now that she had had the courage to return to his office after his death, and retrieve some of his beloved possessions. Alas the Claire Beauchamp everyone knew had never been the sort to place much value in material things anyhow; and it was far easier to keep up this façade than to admit just how much value she did place in the material that held sentiment.

She glanced at her watch, wondering how so much time had escaped her, it was already 9:30pm, she would have to leave now in order to get home and actually rest before her first day official day as a psychologist tomorrow. She left her laptop on her desk, tidied up the remains of her pizza dinner, and took one final look around, feeling proud of her accomplishments, she switched off the desk lamp and headed out the door.

The car ride home made her acutely aware of just how tired she was, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she forced herself to concentrate on the road. “This is ridiculous” she said out loud “pull yourself together Beauchamp, the drive home is barely 10 minutes!”.

When she finally parked her car, she sat motionless for a further 5 minutes gripping the steering wheel, and resting her head on her hands while staring up at her building; mentally preparing her tired body to walk the four flights of stairs that would deliver her to her apartment door. It was times like these where she wished the convenience of a lift was something that her building actually offered.

The climb seemed shorter than usual, her body sort of carried itself, allowing her mind to wander freely. She was thinking of a reference in a textbook and a strong cup of oolong tea when she found herself outside of her door.

She crept inside, maintaining a stealthy silence despite knowing that there was no one to disturb within. In the comfort of her room she immediately began removing all of her clothing, and sliding herself into a dress and a heavy silk robe that had once belonged to her Mother.  
She made her way to the kitchen, setting out to prepare a cup of tea.

Traipsing about her home, she absent mindedly checked that everything was in its place, which it was, and then turned towards her version of a library; a few shelves crammed to the hilt with books of every genre. Running her fingers over the spines of the many volumes, she came across the book she had wanted to reference, and took it over to the chaise seat in front of her window.

She flipped through to find the the passage she was after in B.F Skinner’s Beyond Freedom & Dignity, it read:  
‘Freud was a determinist – on faith, if not on the evidence – but many Freudians have no hesitation in assuring their patients that they are free to choose among different courses of action and are in the long run the architects of their own destinies.  
This escape route is slowly closed as new evidences of the predictability of human behaviour are discovered. Personal exemption from a complete determinism is revoked as a scientific analysis progresses, particularly in accounting for the behaviour of the individual.’  
. . . . . .

The words eased my mind, as I remembered why I had decided to become a psychologist. It was the science of it, the concrete proof that the mind is a most complicated thing, and, as the passage suggested; that in some cases you can’t simply choose your circumstance. Life had the ability to be both generous and cruel, no matter what your intention.

My mind drifted further, I curled myself into a cocoon on the chaise, and stared out of my bedroom window. The streets were quiet, and the only sound that could be heard was the white noise of the rain outside, ever present in Scotland.

I fell asleep watching the dewy drops fall to the ground, mesmerised by the river of flowing water it created on the streets.  
. . . . . .

Claire sat in her office the next morning, bleary eyed, tired and surrounded, in the metaphorical sense, by the pressure she had put upon herself. The weight of this pressure was heavy on her mind, as though someone was steadily injecting liquid into her brain, the sensation of drowning in it was very real.

She took deep breaths in, out, in, out. The nerves about her first day had caused serious disruption to her sleep, so much so in fact, that sitting up reading her old psychology text books were the only thing that would soothe her troubled mind.

The new day had also, thankfully, brought with it some kind of distorted belief that she knew what she was doing, and that she was ready.

She checked her clock again; 9:01am. Her first patient would be waiting by now just on the other side of the closed door, and there was no longer time for procrastination.

She took the eight long steps to the door in her stride, saying the patients name over and over as she went, so that she wouldn’t forget; Louise De La Tour, Louise De La Tour, Louise De La Tour…  
. . . . . .

Opening the door, smile plastered on my face “Louise De La Tour?” My eyes landing on the woman whose name I called.  
Louise stood up fumbling with her purse, putting away the self-help book she had been reading, likely attempting to conceal the cover of it from me, which read; ‘How to Save Your Marriage Alone’. I pursed my lips, determining that this was likely to be an interesting session.

I took a moment to glance at the other patient waiting to be seen by Joe. My eyes were caught, this man had the most beautiful masculine face, encircled by a halo of red hair. He was looking at me as I was studying him, his face bearing the strangest expression, I couldn’t decipher it’s meaning and nor would I have the time to do so, so I simply smiled and gave a nod.

I remembered where I was, and that my self interests where not of consequence at this moment, and jolted out of my trance.  
“Please come in Louise.” Gesturing her inside with a wave of my hand.  
. . . . . .

Claire’s first session passed by in a blur, unable to shake the image of the man in the waiting area.  
Louise had been eager to tell her story and to lay out all of her issues, so little encouraging to ‘fill in the blanks’ was needed. This meant that the moments for Claire to speak or provide input rarely presented themselves.  
It allowed Claire to escape into her thoughts, delving in to find the image of him; the red haired man with his piercing blue eyes. He was burned there in her mind, sure to scar and leave its mark.

When the session had concluded she was embarrassed with herself, for focusing on a man rather than her patient, it was beyond unprofessional. She was also most disappointed that she hadn’t even bothered to pay attention to the significance of the first patient crossing the threshold of her office, mainly for the sentiment of it.  
She knew she had to forget this man and simply carry on as though she had never noticed him.

To ease her conscience she began to take notes on her session with Louise before her next patient arrived. Thankfully Louise hadn’t had any inclination of Claire’s mental absence, seeming more relieved to have someone to listen to her problems.Louise was pregnant, not with her husbands child, but with her lovers, this, among other things, presented her with a number of difficult choices to make.  
Claire noted that she would need to help Louise come to a conclusion about exactly what she wanted, by addressing the different options before making a decision.  
. . . . . .

The last patient exited at 5:30pm. The hours had crawled by and Claire was ready to blow off the steam of her first day, she sincerely hoped that Joe had the same thought in mind.  
She turned towards the practice kitchen, opening each cupboard and drawer, attempting to will a bottle of whiskey into existence.  
In her search she had failed to notice Joe standing in the doorway, watching her.

“The liquor is in my office locked in a cabinet, come on Lady Jane.”

Two hours later, and slightly buzzing, Claire had debriefed with Joe, doing her best to conceal the true reason for her agonising day.  
Although she knew Joe would understand, she felt far too ashamed to admit any hint of ‘feminine weakness’, choosing to chalk up her poor performance with her first client to nerves.  
. . . . . .

Back at my apartment that evening, I resolved to go straight to bed; no reading, no working, just sleeping.

What seemed like hours later, I was still staring at the ceiling despite my exhaustion, so I gave up the idea of sleep and went to sit on the chaise by the window, just as I had done the night before.  
I shifted the books that I had left there, and thought of Louise. I felt slightly jealous of her, a family had been something that I had desperately desired in what seemed like another life. And despite the awful nature of her circumstance, I suspected that she only wanted validation that it was ok to leave her loveless marriage, and to marry the man she saw her future with.

Ultimately Louise had someone in her life who loved her, and she bore a product of their love. Neither of those had happened for me.

I looked out of the window once again lazily watching the few people left on the street outside, blue eyes and red hair consuming me without my permission as my mind entered a fog.

Then there he was again in the corner of my eye; the any season jogger, who ran almost every night and always at the same time, never deterred by snow or rain.  
I admired his dedication, and was always impressed by his routine. On the nights that he ran, he wore the same black tracksuit, hood up, was gone for forty minutes and always returned with a coffee from the same shop.

He disappeared into his building, the one directly opposite mine, and one minute later the light in his sixth floor apartment came on. I watched as he drew his curtains shut, and decided that my bed was where I needed to return.  
I fell asleep quickly, my last thoughts whirling around were of the jogger in black and intense, deep blue eyes.


	3. Chapter 2: Enter, Mr Fraser.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so inspired to write this week, normally it is a long process. Thank god for no writers block.  
> Find me on Tumblr camilladiconza

Jamie sat rigid in his chair trying, with little success, to quiet the chaos in his mind. He was in the waiting room of a small psychology practice to have a session with a one Dr Joe Abernathy. 

He had been ordered to see a psychologist by the army, in order to have a psychological evaluation so that he could finally be discharged. It was all formality, the army had a vested interest in ensuring that they hadn’t fucked you up too much before releasing you back to the world as a civilian. 

If his evaluation today went poorly, he didn’t suppose that anything would really come of it, the doctor might suggest that Jamie continue to seek treatment, but there was nothing that could be done to force him. However this knowledge made him no less nervous about the imminent appointment. His plan was to be as discreet as humanly possible about the physical and emotional scars that at times still plagued him. 

Dr Joe Abernathy was whom the army had been using to perform evaluations for the past six months, he was known for being new in the industry and therefore still in possession of his moral and professional values. This gave the doctor the somewhat unfair reputation of being tough, critical and unwilling to allow a person to pass their psychological evaluation if they showed even a hint of instability. Jamie was thankful that a pass wasn’t what he needed, because frankly he wasn’t sure he’d earn it if it was.

The reality was that Jamie had had a rather complex situation dealt to him in his mid teens, a situation that he had yet to face all of these years later. It was this turmoil that carried him off to the army, where he found structure and another type of family; the family of brotherhood. However the army had also been the place in which he had suffered unspeakable trauma and wounds. Wounds that left him festering and debilitated for months.  
And those were just the physical injuries. He wasn’t sure he would ever heal from the emotional affliction.  
. . . . . .

I stared at my plain black Nike shoes, I wondered if I had dressed appropriately. I had hoped that if my dress was casual that the good doctor would buy the ‘laid back and completely fine’ vibe that I was trying to give off.

My nerves were getting the better of me, my foot had begun tapping to a secret rhythm completely out of my control. I searched for something to distract me, setting my focus upon the only other occupant of the waiting area; a woman, she had a slight build, mousy brown hair that was done up in a tight bun, and bore an expression of heartbreaking sadness. I also thought I spied the hint of a pregnancy swell on her stomach, but I couldn’t be certain, I’d seen my sister in that state a couple of times, but it was easy to be mistaken in the early stages. 

I opted to get up and fetch myself a glass of water from the dispenser in the corner of the room, as the cool water touched my lips I let my gaze drift over the room, I picked up a floral scent and something that smelled like a citrus fruit; it was intoxicating, I wondered where it came from. I took in the delightful fumes on the way back to my seat.

As I was sitting myself back down I heard a door open, and expecting it to be Dr Abernathy, I looked up in the anticipation of hearing my name. It was, however, the door that bore no name plaque that opened, and the most beautiful woman I had ever seen stepped out.  
The bonny creature had shoulder length dark locks the colour of water in a barrel, ethereal and ever changing with the light, she had milky pale skin, and a tall, elegant stature.  
I ogled her for longer than was probably polite, eventually capturing her image from head to toe.

There was something about her that made her seem instantly familiar. I wished for her to look at me longer so that I could gauge the exact colour of her eyes, but she suddenly seemed very aware of my attentions, and looked away.

I tried desperately to contain myself, forcing my eyes from her. Feeling incapacitated, I realised I hadn’t even heard her speak to call in the woman who had been waiting.  
I wondered what her voice sounded like, I felt certain that it would be angelic; like harps playing for only the most worthy listener.

I closed my eyes, and saw her there in my minds eye. I realised that the scents I had picked up in the room before must have come from her, they had become significantly stronger since her short appearance.  
She was just as intoxicating as her scent.  
. . . . . .

At that moment Dr Abernathy opened his door. Both men acknowledged each other wordlessly.

“Enter, Mr Fraser” was all the doctor said.

Getting on his feet Jamie followed Dr Abernathy into his office, and shut the door behind him.  
He sat down opposite to the doctor in a plush armchair, he could feel the intense sweating in his palms beginning, and wondered who might break the silence first. 

“James Fraser” Dr Abernathy paused at that. “I’ve read your file this morning, you are doing your mandatory visit before discharge, is that right?”

“Aye it is Doctor. It will no’ hurt will it?” Jamie said jokingly.

“Please, call me Joe. It won’t hurt a bit.” He thought for a moment. “Well I suppose I can only guarantee that in the physical sense, but you should escape unscathed.”

“Good to know.”

“So, shall we get on with the session James, are you ready?”

“As ready as I’m likely to be.”  
. . . . . . 

The session began with Dr Abernathy asking the run of the mill questions; all pertaining to his mental history, what type of work he had done in the army, and to those little details that helped him to draw an accurate picture of who this James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser was. 

Joe Abernathy was pleased with how his patient was responding, considering the injuries he had suffered, and the violence he had seen, James seemed remarkably well adjusted. Joe had already decided that his patient was as adjusted as an army veteran as he was likely to be after the traumas he had suffered, but in order to meet the requirements of the army, he concluded that he would have to continue.  
. . . . . .

Dr Abernathy cleared his throat and started again after a moment.  
“I noted down that you suffered extensive injuries during your time in Iraq, are you able to tell me a little bit about that?” 

“Aye.” Jamie felt uneasy, he made his mind up to be discreet, and to try not to get into the particulars. “Myself and four of the men from my unit were in Iraq, driving very close to the border of Iran. One of the men, Angus was his name, wanted to stop in the early dusk to take a pish. We were still hours from Baghdad, so we all agreed. I suppose he wasna being careful, wandered a wee bit too far, and he stepped on a land mine. He was blown to pieces, the other two men in my unit died from their injuries almost instantly. I suffered shrapnel wounds to my back, and waited hours before some locals found me.”

“That sounds like quite the ordeal. Were you close to the men who died?”

“I was to Angus, but the others no’ so much.”

“I see, how did you feel after his death?” 

“I’m no’ really sure, it took me a long time to recover from my own wounds, once I had healed it seemed a distant memory, an’ I felt that the time for grievin’ had long since passed.” 

“You say that you felt that the ‘time for grieving had long since passed’, is there a time frame or period for grief? Or is it perhaps your way of disconnecting from it?”

Christ, thought Jamie, this man was going to probe him for answers, and he sincerely hoped that he could give the right ones. 

“I dinna believe it to be my way of disconnecting, I did grieve for him, to be sure, but I did so quickly and silently, as the army demanded my attentions once more.” 

“I see”. Was all Dr Abernathy said, seeming satisfied with this response, but Jamie had the distinct impression that the doctor was waiting for clarification or elaboration. 

“You have to understand, it has been an inherent response o’ mine to put the army before my feelings, and before myself; this is why I’m seekin’ discharge, I no longer wish to live that way. I want to help other veterans to heal, to have a family, and to know the family I already have in intimate detail again.” 

“I can certainly understand that, James, and I hear the words of someone who is ready to move on in a positive way with their lives, I do not wish to stand in your way.” He was looking directly into Jamie eyes as he said this, meaning what he said in all earnest. “So I am simply going to ask a few more questions in order to fulfil the requirements of the paperwork your employers have given me, and we can be done.” 

Jamie took a deep breath, thankful for his own cleverness at deciding to be candid, rather than continuing to give as little of himself as possible.  
He felt the confines of army life breaking right before him, and the remnants of it pouring, along with the ink, out of the pen in Dr Abernathy’s firm grasp.  
. . . . . .

The session came to an end in due time, and Jamie left exhilarated. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt normal. Pushing the doors of the building open, he breathed in the crisp Scottish air and let it fill his lungs. He felt as though it was the first proper breath he had taken in ages. 

Then it occurred to him; he didn’t actually have a plan in place dictating his next moves. 

He could return to his family farm and seek company and solace there, work on his business or he could begin holding the group meetings at the local parish in order to help veterans returning from war.

His last option, and certainly the most self-indulgent, was to divine as much information as he could about the beautiful woman he had seen today. Jamie wanted to know everything about her; he wanted to witness how she looked when she smiled, he wished with every part of him to know the colour of her eyes, and be able to stare into their depths, exposing her soul. 

He knew he could not let his own selfishness win, no matter how much that pained him to admit. Aside from that what if he were to pursue this beautiful stranger, and ultimately come to find her married with children. He chose, for now at least, to table the idea of having every part of her.

Jamie got into his brand new Audi S3 and made for his home, hoping that he might find his Godfather there.  
. . . . . . 

By everyone else’s accounts Jamie Fraser drove like a madman, but for him driving was for fun, a luxury sport. However today he drove at an uncharacteristic leisurely pace. His thoughts were plagued, as they often were, by his businesses.

Four years ago, Jamie’s Grandfather, Simon Fraser (or Lord Lovat as he preferred to be known) had died, and left his construction business and his entire estate to Jamie. It had been Jamie’s Godfather, Murtagh, who had delivered the news to Jamie while he had been home between tours. 

Having it thrust upon him, without say, was immensely difficult for Jamie, his Grandfather had cut all of his Father’s family out of his life when Jamie was very young, so the man had no place in his life at all.

Jamie himself had only seen his Grandfather once since being disinherited; when he was 15 years old he argued with the ‘Old Fox’ (as his family liked to call him) about his Father’s ailing physical state and the possibility of financial assistance to aid in his care.  
He ultimately refused, and it was for this reason that Jamie had despised the man. 

The young Master J.A.M.M. Fraser had decided to contain his anger at his Grandfathers lack of empathy and channel it into one vitriolic letter, the Old Fox himself to be the lucky recipient.

Simon Fraser was never mentioned again.

Until the fateful day that Murtagh came knocking on the door of his childhood bedroom at Lallybroch, where Jamie had been staying between tours. Murtagh’s arms were laden with papers, deeds, and a small hand written note, on which Lord Lovat had written; 

‘To my fierce young Grand-bairn, you proved to me your manhood in boyhood, I trust that you will do what is right with all that I own.’

Jamie considered selling everything that the Old Fox had owned and donating it all to charity, but he knew in his heart of hearts how desperately his family could use the extra coin. So with that he gave his younger brother, William, the Lovat house and all of its land. His sister, Jenny, took charge of Lallybroch in his stead, along with her Husband, Ian, whom had served with Jamie in the army, but had since returned home due to injury. He gifted Lallybroch with enough funds to set up a sustainable farm, whose crop would make them a good annual income.

Jamie invested in several other businesses, whose annual profits were to be divided between the three siblings; William, Jenny and Jamie.

Lastly there was the matter of his Grandfather’s construction business. It was virtually worthless, likely less than a year from bankruptcy. He contemplated letting it go to nothing, but he enjoyed the idea of using the company as his exit strategy from the army. So he striped the company bare, renamed it Fraser Construction, and spent whatever time he had on home ground learning as much as he could, undertaking practical work and short business courses. These helped him make a business plan, and eventually breathe new, restorative life into the company. 

The time eventually came for him to tour with the army again, and so he left the running of Fraser Construction to Murtagh, his cousin Rupert and a small number of contracted men. 

Two years passed, and in that time the company had grown exponentially. But with success came loneliness, and for James Fraser, who was also recovering from very serious wounds and mostly bed ridden, this seemed likely to be his lot in life. 

In order to escape lonesomeness, he threw himself into his work and didn’t look back. 

“Two more years” was what he told himself, two more years and he would be out; out of the army for good.  
. . . . . . 

I had been driving for a few minutes when I stopped at a red traffic light, and watched the pedestrians pass, among those were a group of business people excitedly discussing something, and a couple carrying their children across the road. 'I’m finally here, my time in the army has ended’ I thought. ‘I need to be there for those who have helped and guided me through dark and difficult times, and turned them into light and uncomplicated moments.’  
. . . . . . 

So, he decided, he would refamiliarise himself with his own company, to ease the burden on others who had been doing it for him all this time. And to spend time with his family; be there to watch his nieces and nephews grow.

Jamie brought his car to a halt in the parking garage, and stepped out with conviction. He was ready to start new, to pick up his broken pieces and use them to design his destiny.


	4. Chapter 3: Frank the Fraudster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We delve a little further into Claire's past, briefly meeting Frank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Oh how I struggled with this chapter, namely the character of Frank. I hope you enjoy this latest chapter, sorry for any skimming over details, they will all be addressed later on.

Chapter 3: Frank the Fraudster.

Perhaps it was divine intervention, warning her that the food at this establishment must be terrible. Or perhaps the meals were so mind blowing that fate had deemed it an unavoidable collision.

Either way Claire felt her appetite disappear when she saw her ex-husband sitting in the corner of the restaurant she had chosen to dine at that evening.

 _'Damn it all to hell' s_ he thought. Deciding to be the bigger person and keep her plans, she made her way, albeit conspicuously, to the bar, where she might stay hidden from view with her back to him.

She ordered a dram, intending to down a little liquid courage just in case she was spotted. As soon as the whiskey touched her lips the warmth of it began to spread through her veins, and her appetite returned. She perused the menu in front of her, and decided that a steak with vegetables, and a bottle of red wine was just what she needed.

When the wine bottle had been uncorked, a small glass was poured for her tastes approval. As she took the first sip of the full bodied wine, a hand grasped her shoulder.

Her shock nearly caused her to spit out the wine, but instead she gulped it back with painful force. Turning with the anticipation of seeing Frank, she rearranged her face to display a look of withering disapproval combined with one who was content with their life choices (whatever that look was, she wasn’t actually sure).

However when she had turned she was merely met with a member of the waitstaff, who was politely holding out her clutch purse, the one she had obviously dropped on the floor by mistake. The waiter handed it over with haste, clearly not wanting to know what had inspired anybody to give another human such a look.  
. . . . . .

I felt awful, the poor young man looked positively frightened of me. I tried to thank him as he scampered off, but to no avail, he had disappeared before the words even left my mouth.  
It was then my food arrived, my hunger had yet again dissipated so I asked politely if I might be able to have the food packed up to take away. As they were placing my meal into a container, I left cash on the counter to pay for my meal, drinks and a rather handsome tip.

Swinging my coat over my shoulders, I looked across the restaurant hoping that I hadn’t drawn attention to myself, and just as I did so, my eyes met with the cold, dark eyes of my ex-husband, Frank. I quickly looked away, and noticed that the money I had put on the counter was gone, and my take-away meal was left in its place. I took the container with clumsy hands and fled the restaurant.

At that moment I was fully prepared to run a half marathon, if necessary, to escape my past. Thankfully, as I glanced over my shoulder to check for familiar followers; there were none, so a sprint into the dark wouldn’t be necessary.

The air that night was cold, and it chilled my bones. I welcomed a brisk pace in order to stay warm and return home faster.  
As I walked past building after building, my mind began to go places that I never allowed it to go.

  
I thought of my last year of secondary school.

Uncle Lamb had forced me to attend my final year at an actual school, as opposed to doing my schooling while travelling with him. He seemed to think that this would be beneficial for me so that I might have better University prospects.

It was there at Kingham Hill School in Oxfordshire that I met Frank. I was boarding, as was he.

And so it went, in much the same way most high school romances go, by the time graduation had come we were convinced that the two of us were in it forever.  
Frank studied history at the University of Oxford and had a job tutoring, while I took on the domiciliary role and stayed at our home, this was Frank’s wish, and I had intended to obey it.

I spent much of my time teaching myself to cook, as most of the cooking I had done in formative years had been over a campfire or at basic lodgings. It was a thrill to work in a kitchen that was fully equipped, and to have a large garden to tend to; a place that I could plant whatever my heart desired.

Frank and I married on the last day of September, not a month before my nineteenth birthday.  
He insisted on a trip to Scotland for our honeymoon, this was a point of contention. I wasn’t ready to face Scotland yet, my parents had passed away there. I’d left an enormous piece of my heart with them, and I hadn’t yet had a desire to recover it. 

None of this mattered to Frank. 

I spent the journey there retreating further into myself, I felt disquieted. I didn’t know what I would find in Scotland, I had loved it with every part of my being, and it would always be home, but it was as if I was awaiting an explosion upon my arrival.

Thankfully I spent the entirety of the honeymoon, if you could call it that, encapsulated in our hotel room because Frank was busy.

He was ‘busy’ at The University of Edinburgh, doing research for a dissertation on Bonnie Prince Charlie. I hadn’t the fainted clue why we had even gone on a honeymoon if study was to be his priority. 

On our last evening in Edinburgh, Frank announced his desire to transfer from Oxford to study here of all places.

He waffled on for a period of time, I barely heard him.  
He spoke about the fact that his parents had agreed to continue to help with finances, and that he had been offered a job at Edinburgh upon completing his degree, but truthfully none of this mattered in the slightest to me; internally I was screaming.

Six months later we moved post-haste to Edinburgh. I had lost the fight.

For the first few weeks, I left our apartment only when necessary, and always with the expectation that someone would say ‘you don’t belong here’, or ‘you have no right to be back’. Of course it was irrational, and this never happened, but subconsciously I agreed.

After a while I started to acclimatise, and I found myself having little adventures here and there, never too far from home. My routine became like living through groundhog day, each day that passed blurred into one.

I was restless. 

Frank was gone, a lot. 

It was when we had been married for close to two years, nothing had changed and I still wasn’t pregnant, that I thought perhaps I ought to pursue my dreams and my ambitions, they had been on hold for long enough.

I’d decided that before I informed Frank of my plans that I would go ahead and get the ball rolling anyway. So I applied to the University of Edinburgh to study psychology, and hoped with every fibre of my being that my application would be successful.

That same evening I prepared a proper roast dinner, bought wine and skimmed through the speech I had mentally prepared so that I didn’t miss anything when I told Frank.  
Frank came home that evening distracted and surly.  
When I presented the roast, he said nothing. The dinner began in complete silence, I felt the wine turning sour in my stomach, knowing I would need to say something soon.

I opened my mouth to start, when he said “I’ve been thinking; we aren’t pregnant yet. I thought perhaps you ought to be tested to see if you are fertile, otherwise we may need to start thinking of making other arrangements.”

I was incensed with rage. How could he be this insensitive. We had never discussed the issue, and this was how he chose to broach the subject?!

“Well it is probably easier for you to be tested first, as it is a much more invasive process for a woman. And what exactly do you mean by other arrangements?” I had bravely asked.

“I’m sure it’s not me Claire, I’ve had no major trauma, no childhood illnesses, and it doesn’t run in my family, so why would it be. What I mean by other arrangements is that we decide whether or not to stay together.” He said it crudely, with a hint of malice.

It was a bombshell. This man, my husband, was sure I was ‘the problem.’  
I’d let the meaning of his words sink in, and made the hasty decision to call him on his bullshit.

“Fuck you Frank. How could you.”

“I’m trying to be honest Claire. I’ve tried to give you time, and I’ve been patient about it.”

“Well let me be honest then. Firstly; I’ve applied to University, and I mean to start as soon as I can. Secondly; you are right, I’m not pregnant, and I may be barren, but I never thought it would mean the end of us. And thirdly; why don’t we discuss the elephant in the room, the one that seems to be clouding us, or perhaps more specifically you. So don’t act as though you have been the epitome of patience.

“I’m not sure I understand what you are getting at.” It was obvious he was trying to sound casual at this point.

“Yes you do Frank.” I could see his demeanour change.

“I didn’t know you knew.” He said it so matter of factly, as though it meant nothing.

“How could I not know? You are never at home, we’ve been getting random calls in the evening for almost a year, and every time I’m the one to answer, the caller hangs up. You’ve been dressing smartly, spending more time at the University, and coming home late on countless occasions hours past the time your work is finished.”

I felt my courage fading, I was devastated, I hadn’t actually known for a fact that it was true. I hadn’t wanted to believe it, so I ignored it for a long time. I’d been using my lack of impending motherhood as an excuse for my misery, when in fact it was my philandering husband.

“Well fuck Claire, I gave up on the idea of having a baby with you. So I decided to have a taste of another life, don’t I deserve happiness and children?”

“Is she pregnant then? Your whore.” I spat the words at him.

“Not yet, but I expect she will be soon. I truly thought by now that an inheritance from your Uncle Lamb or your parents would have materialised, so that when we divorced I would receive my piece of it as a stipend for caring for you these past few years.”

I remember feeling as though I was on fire. Like my insides were molten lava, and I was a volcano about to erupt.

“You deserve nothing, Frank, nothing. I’m leaving. I’ve put up with this for long enough. You’ll have divorce papers as soon as I can organise it.” I climbed the stairs to pack my things together, trying not to let my jelly legs affect my balance.

I would come to be eternally grateful for my own brilliance.

I had in actual fact received an inheritance, when Uncle Lamb had died two months after my graduation from Kingham, he'd left me a sum of money.  
A year after his death it was placed into a bank account he had set up in my name, and I began slowly withdrawing the money from the account, each time taking the cash to my dear friend Isobel, a kind and gentle soul who had once resided in the apartment building opposite mine, but now lived across town. A safe distance from Frank.

I had withdrawn the last of it two months previous, making the trip in a taxi to Isobel’s house, where she then hid the money in her safe. 

I knew the money would be enough to put me through University, for the most part, and enough for a small deposit to buy an apartment.  
Something inside of me had warned me never to advise Frank of my inheritance, I had been right.

I left that night, and stayed with Isobel and her husband, John, until my divorce was eventually finalised three months later.

I filed for divorce on the grounds of adultery, I requested nothing from Frank, save my own small belongings. And he requested nothing from me, believing that I had nothing.

The last time I saw him was in the conference room of my lawyers firm. We said nothing to each other, the only sound that could be heard was the scratching of our pens on the paper that would sign our marriage away.

After that day, I made the conscious decision to breathe new life into myself.

I got a job as a waitress and part-time bartender at a small restaurant, so that I could make mortgage payments. I bought myself a little apartment, the very same apartment that I inhabited still to this day, and made it a home.

The final piece of the puzzle fell into place on the last day of September, on what would have been my three year wedding anniversary. I received a thick envelope with my acceptance into the University of Edinburgh. I did a little jig, realising mid dance that it was the first time I had felt truly happy in quite some time.

And the rest is history. 

Here I was four and a half years later; accomplished and living to the beat of my own drum. But it never stopped me from wishing that I didn’t have to see Frank, it was most unfortunate that his work in Boston didn’t keep him there permanently. 

Just as this bitter thought crossed my mind, a jogger bumped into me, he mumbled an apology without looking back. I recognised him instantly as the any season jogger, going out for his nightly dalliance with the pavement.

For a moment I half considered sitting on the bench outside of my building, waiting for his return. I knew it was preposterous, what would I even say to him?  
The psychologist in me was fumbling for the keys to unlock the mystery of my avid curiosity with this man. 

Instead of overthinking it, I chose to simply approach him the next time we had a run in.  
_'Good plan Beauchamp. Very rational.'_ I thought. 


	5. Chapter 4: Homeward Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie returns to Lallybroch, and learns startling news about his brother, William.

Chapter 4: Homeward Bound

The trip from Edinburgh to Lallybroch went swiftly, compared to the trip that normally seemed to go on forever, despite the mere forty minute travel time. On this particular day it was warm and beautiful in the highlands, and therefore it was difficult to feel impatient on the journey.

Jamie had all of the windows in his car wound down in an attempt to unstick his shirt from his body, humidity was never something he handled overly well. The music (Sting and the Police precisely) was blaring as he was nearing Lallybroch, he could feel the change is his temperament as soon as he caught sight of his families home over the rolling hills in the distance.  
Quite suddenly he was tense, knowing that he had to face all of Jenny’s questions about his life and what he had been doing in the three months since his last visit. 

. . . . . .

He felt immense guilt about leaving it so long between his visits. It had been three months ago, directly after his appointment with Dr. Abernathy, that he driven post haste to Lallybroch to consult with the youngest of the Fraser children, Jenny.  
He had chosen to seek her counsel because he knew well enough that she would deliver truth, and not hold back on her opinion of what his next steps should be. 

As he had expected her to do; she had encouraged him to spend more time with the family, and to stay at Lallybroch full time. He knew perfectly well that Jenny hoped to set him up with a lady friend closer to ‘home’ in order to attempt to keep him there, and this wasn’t what he had in mind; for one it meant he wouldn’t be able to help other veterans at the community centre as he had planned, Lallybroch was too far removed from society, but it also meant completely cutting off any possibility of bumping into the beautiful raven haired woman. 

For reasons unexplainable to even himself at the time, the response from Jenny had angered him; it had taken the trip to Lallybroch for him to change his mind yet again about pursuing the mystery woman.

It was unfair to Jenny, he knew it, but he wasn’t ready to settle at Lallybroch with a girl from Broch Mordha.

So he left, went back to his apartment in Edinburgh, and got on with it. He made no conscious effort to chase the mystery woman, but he also always kept a watchful eye out for her, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.  
In the meantime he set up weekly meetings on Mondays for recovering war veterans, this had become rather a success for Jamie, and surprisingly also for Dr. Abernathy’s practice; because Jamie gave the practice such glowing reviews, many of the veterans who came through the doors ended up seeking help from the good doctor and his beautiful colleague. This was how he came to discover her name; Claire Beauchamp.

. . . . . .

As he pulled into the pebbled drive way, his car was suddenly swarmed by young children, he could hear them hooting with glee “Uncle Jamie! Uncle Jamie!”  
He had barely come to a halt when his door was opened for him by none other than his namesake Young Jamie. His round brown eyes, and dark hair gave him away as a Murray, most weren’t likely to ever guess that the two Jamie’s were in fact relations. 

“Uncle, where have ye been all this time? Mama says that ye couldn’t see us.”

Jamie felt most ashamed of himself as he tried to find a good answer to his nephews question. “Weeeelll Young Jamie, that is quite the truth of it, I’ve been busy in the city trying to help other people. But I missed ye all something terrible, and I mean to make it up to ye.”

Seeming satisfied with this answer the young Master Jamie hugged his Uncle around the middle and high tailed it out of there. Jamie breathed a sigh of relief, at least the first person he had encountered hadn’t been overly difficult to explain his absence to. Unfortunately he knew damn well that this would not continue to be the case. He lingered by his car for another moment, praying to God (whom he was hoping would be merciful today) that his Uncle Murtagh be here already, knowing that his presence would make an excellent buffer between himself and Jenny.

Realising he could delay no longer, as his presence was likely to already be known by the lady of the house, he burst his way in the side door of his childhood home, the door that lead to the kitchen.

He stumbled headlong into Jenny Murray herself. Apparently she had not heard of his arrival, and she’d been stunned into temporary silence. 

“Brother.”

More silence.

“I didna know when we’d see ye again.”

“Te be honest Jenny, I didna know either. I’m sorry for how I left things. I just needed te do something that made me feel good, I needed te be selfish. Do ye understand? Do ye forgive me?”

“Of course I do Jamie, I’m no blind te the fact that you’ve been through so much in yer years, and with ye being solely responsible for giving myself and Ian, and Willie our homes and income. Listen, ye’ve come at a good time, Willy means so announce something this weekend, and I think it might be best if ye sit down and let me tell ye what it is, so that ye can be calm when he tells ye later on.”

Jamie’s heart was racing, what on earth had he missed. Granted his relationship with his younger brother, Willie, had been strained to say the least, and therefore admittedly unlikely that we would hear any news.  
Jamie thought that Willie resented him for his success, although Willie benefited from this said success, he thought that it was likely that this was the reason for his brothers disdain; he found it difficult to be provided for.

“Sit down will ye brother.”

“Aye, fine.” He said as he pulled up a chair.

“Ok. Well now, ye know Willie has wanted to settle down since he was young enough to know what being a husband was. So he’s going te announce his engagement te the whole family tomorrow at lunch.”

“Alright” Jamie said slowly. “And what of it? I want him to be happy, I want him to have someone to share life with, why did I need to be sitting to hear this?”

“Weel because it was rather more of the who than the what that I was concerned about telling ye. He’s to be engaged, and marrit I suppose, te Laoghaire.”

He had the sudden urge to laugh, thinking that surely Jenny must be joking. Leg-Hair, as he ‘fondly’ called her, was a manipulative and conniving young lady who lived close by to Lallybroch, his family were once very close to her parents.

In his teenage years she had pursued him endlessly, and he had heard stories of how nasty she had been to other girls whom he had innocently befriended. After Ian had returned home with the injury he had sustained during the war, he had written to Jamie of the goings on at Lallybroch; he had told of Loaghaire attempting to trap her latest suitor with a fake pregnancy. This obviously caused quite the stir in the little town of Broch Mordha. 

“Really Jenny? Come on now, ye canna be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.”

The colour was draining from his face faster than heavy drops of rain gliding down a window.  
All he could ask himself was how on earth had this come to happen?  
Was it just Willie’s thirst to prove that he could, in fact, tame the shrew.  
He sincerely hoped not, and that it would be a matrimony based on purer reasons.

. . . . . .

After a long dinner with Jenny, Ian and their children, Young Jamie, Maggie and Kitty, I had finally made it to what used to be my room.  
It was warm, I’d kicked off the blankets, and lay there in my white Calvin Klein boxers, trying to stay as still as humanly possible to stabilise my body temperature. Lallybroch had history, and therefore Jenny had chosen never to compromise its structure by adding air conditioning.

Sometime between midnight and one in the morning, I had made a decision to extract the available fans from the roof space when the sun came up. 

It was now 2am, and sleep was no closer, the ceiling had started to take different shapes; first I was seeing Claire; she was talking to me, but I couldn’t hear anything she was saying. The next figure I could discern was my mother, she had died many years ago, after having had a short battle with cancer. I saw her in full detail as if I’d seen her just yesterday, Ellen Fraser looked handsome and ageless, wearing white, and smiling.

I closed my eyes, and finally felt sleep taking me, just as I was wishing that my mother could meet my dream girl.

. . . . . . 

I was jolted back to reality with a resounding thud. I squinted as I tried to open my eyes, the sunlight hurt, and it took more than a moment for eyes to adjust. I located the source of the noise, little Katherine Murray was walking around my room, no doubt looking for the next thing to chew on. I put on my robe, and picked her up “Come to me, ye wee angel.”

I brought her into my bed, and cuddled with her (well I cuddled with her as much any nineteen month old will allow you to cuddle with them). I looked at her, appreciating all of her cuteness, she had recently learned to blow raspberries and took great pleasure in showing off this talent, so I decided to reciprocate on the palm of her chubby little hand, to which she responded with a full belly laugh.

Murtagh walked in at that moment.

“Ah there ye are wee Kitty! Yer mother is all up in arms, we’ve been looking all over for ye.” He scooped her up and turned around to give me a look, before saying “Wait here, I’ve been wantin’ te speak with ye.”

I scampered about getting ready and dressed for the day before Murtagh reappeared. 

“Ok laddie, that’s it. I canna look at ye like this anymore. Yer brother is about te announce his engagement, yer sister is marrit with three bairns. What are ye doin’ about this woman ye’ve been obsessin’ over? Is it no’ time ye had a little happiness of yer own. The way ye looked at wee Kitty just now, ye need yer own family Jamie. When we get back te the city, I want ye te promise me that ye’ll go an’ get the lassie?

I grunted in acknowledgement, I was stunned at Murtagh’s outburst, it had seemed to come out of nowhere, I wondered how long he had been watching me with Kitty. 

Murtagh gave me a knowing look, and made for the exit. 

. . . . . . 

That afternoon, before the rest of my family and some family friends began arriving, I took young Jamie out to the back fields of Lallybroch, the site of my many escapades in my pre-teens. I remembered the Sassenach daughter I’d been very fond of, my very first crush. She had been beautiful, and in truth I’d always felt sad about how it had ended. I had expected to come back to see her when I returned for my Mother’s funeral after four and a half years away, but Jenny told me that her parents had passed away, and the girl had been taken away by an Uncle.

Young Jamie held my hand, as we walked. He would let go occasionally to explore a little further, and it was at one of these times I found the fence that bordered Lallybroch’s land and the Sassenach’s land. I looked at their house, it was very badly dilapidated, I felt despair looking at it. 

Young Jamie took my hand and said “that house looks really old Uncle Jamie, is it haunted?”

“No Jamie, it isna haunted. A family used to live there, but they dinna anymore.”

“Are they dead, Uncle?”

“Yes I think so, but their little girl isna I dinna think.”

“But where is she Uncle? Won’t she be afeared by herself?”

“No wee Jamie, she’s a grown up lass now, just like me.”

“Ohhhh but where is she then?”

I rolled his eyes and smiled, I should have expected this barrage of questions as soon as I answered the first. 

“I dinna know laddie. I dinna know....”

. . . . . .  
Once they had reached home, Jamie spotted Willy’s car in the driveway, and was instantly on the lookout for Laoghaire. 

He opened the front door, let wee Jamie in before him, and proceeded to linger in the doorway pretending to fiddle with his laces as he removed his shoes. Any sort of procrastination was welcome at this point. 

“Ah there he is, the man of the hour.” Willie’s voice resounded in the bare hallway as his figure appeared, he was almost as tall as Jamies 6 foot, 4 inches, but he was slimmer and sported the same dark hair of the Fraser side. 

“Not the man of the hour as I hear it, brother, Jenny tells me that congratulations are in order, where is the bride to be?” Jamie had been about to say ‘where is the fair bride to be’, but he thought that might have been stretching it. 

“Thank you Jamie, that means a lot” Willie was looking him, trying to test his words for sincerity. “My bride to be is in the kitchen with Jenny, and speaking of Jenny, she was most upset that ye left so abruptly, what was it, three months ago now?”

“I’ve explained my reasons Willie, and Jenny understands, let’s no’ fight. I’m back now, and I’ve had my time to discover what I truly wanted for myself, and to find out who I am without all of my army baggage.” Jamie felt as though being truthful and transparent was the best idea, he wanted to mend things with Willie. 

For a moment Willie looked as though what Jamie had said, resonated with him. And then something behind his eyes darkened. “Weel I’m happy for ye, lets go and find the rest of the clan.”

. . . . . .

What was left of the afternoon went by without a hitch. Even Laoghaire behaved herself, remaining uncharacteristically quiet. 

As they were finishing an early dinner, Murtagh came up behind his chair, bent down, and murmured in Jamie’s ear “I need a walk laddie, ye coming?”

“Aye” Jamie murmured back.

Murtagh led Jamie to the back fields of Lallybroch, his second trip there today.

Murtagh lent against the fence just as Jamie had done, and nodded in the direction of the Sassenach’s house.  
“I’m told that this house here is about te be put up for sale, and I thought perhaps we should buy it wi’ the family trust, an’ keep it for our visits to Broch Mordha on weekends. We could bring Fraser Construction here te fix the place, Rupert would be happy for work so close te home.”

Jamie mulled the idea of it over, it would be a good investment. Not to mention the thought of not having to stay in his old room when he visited Jenny and the bairns, made him want to sign the paperwork and get it locked in right then and there.  
“I think it’s brilliant Murtagh, ye’ll sort it for me?”

“Ye can count on it. Now come laddie, I’ve a mind te return te Edinburgh tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m very sorry for the delay lovely people, thank you for your patience.  
>  To end your suffering; they’ll meet in the next chapter.


	6. Chapter 5: Chance Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worlds of Jamie Fraser and Claire Beauchamp finally collide (again).

Chapter 5: Chance Meeting

Claire sat alone for dinner, as it was usual for her to do, but tonight she felt impatient.  
The hubbub of the restaurant wasn’t even enough to pull her out of her thoughts. Despite the two screaming children, and the couple in the corner having a heated argument in what had likely begun in hushed tones, but was now just full blown yelling.

She checked her watch, the old Minnie Mouse face was as it had always been, but the glittering silver bands were a new upgrade. She’d been having a fit of nostalgia, the anniversary of her parents death was coming up, and she felt the need to honour them by extracting the few trinkets she’d kept from her childhood, and wearing them, or fixing them, or simply leaving them about for easy reminiscing.  
The watch read 20:10. Why hadn’t Joe called yet? He was supposed to have called at 8, to let her know that he and Gail had made it safely to their hotel in Nice.  
Claire had been edgy since the morning before, knowing that Joe was going on holiday and leaving her with the office, made her uncomfortable and unsure of herself. Granted she only had her patients to worry about, but not having a lunch buddy, or someone to unwind with at the end of the working day, was somewhat depressing.

Just as she was considering making a call to Joe; something forced her to look up, she’d felt it before she looked; a pull of energy unlike anything she had ever felt before, like something that had the ability to alter gravitational pull. 

A man was standing behind the empty chair, watching her, she recognised him instantly as the one she had seen in the waiting room on her very first day at the office. She cringed as she thought briefly of Louise; whom was still her patient, and was surely thankful that Claire’s attention had been better focused in their subsequent sessions. 

“Hello, I wanted te introduce myself. I’m no’ sure if ye remember, but I attended yer practice with Dr Abernathy, for a session to be discharged from the army.”

He was rambling, and continued to do so.

“Anyway, this will sound strange, but I wanted te meet ye. Perhaps ye’ll also ken some of the people I refer to ye from my veteran support group. I’m Jamie, Jamie Fraser.”

He held out his hand, and she shook it. His hand was unusually warm for such a chilly evening, and his grip suggested a powerful strength.

“I’ve seen you after that day” she said slowly. “You and I seem to shop at, eat at and frequent the same places.” She had noticed him, and wasn’t entirely sure who wouldn’t notice him, he was taller than most men, with that halo of red hair that had first captivated her. 

“Yes, we do.” He said simply. “I’ve been trying to work out how to approach ye for a little while. Honestly after I saw ye the first time, I felt a strange familiarity about ye, but I’ve since decided that I couldna possibly know ye; because surely I’d remember having met or known someone as beautiful as ye.”

She felt herself blushing so furiously that she was certain that the redness had even reached the tips of her toes. Realising then that she hadn’t even introduced herself, and it forced a new wave of embarrassment. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to compose.

“Well that’s quite the compliment Mr Fraser, and it’s something I’m not quite used to. You’ll forgive my rudeness; I’ve just realised that I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Claire Beauchamp, why don’t you sit down?”

His whole body shifted, she felt sure he was allowing himself to relax. He took the empty seat.  
“Thank ye, Claire. I dinna want to interrupt yer dinner.”

“Not at all, this gives me a chance to thank you for all of the great work that you are doing with the veterans who are attending your group sessions. I’m guessing from what you said before that you’ve spent quite some time in the army?”

As he spoke of his army years, Claire had time to notice his very blue eyes, and their slanted almond shape. His lips were full, and as he spoke, they hinted at traces of good humour. His whole demeanour was enrapturing.

They spoke for so long, that time had eluded them completely, it was quarter to eleven, and the waiters in the restaurant were quite clearly restless at their lingering presence. So the beautiful young duo got up, Jamie settled their bill, they opened the door to the street, and left a squabble of relieved waiters in their wake.

. . . . . .

 

He couldn’t quite believe his luck as they stepped out of the restaurant together. 

He thanked the stars for Murtagh, it had been just two days previous during their return from Lallybroch that Murtagh had convinced him to pursue her properly, no more sidelines bullshit. Jamie knew he was right, and the next time he spotted her he made his mind up to just approach her and let fate decide their story.

And here he was. It had been so simple. 

They were doing the dance that most people do after a good first date dinner.  
Do we hug?  
Do we kiss?  
Do I walk her home?  
Do I give him my number?

Overcome with curiosity, Jamie decided that the only logical course of action was to walk her home, just to see where she lived, and to spend a wee bit more time with her of course.

. . . . . . 

“May I walk ye home Claire? I dinna really like the thought of ye walkin’ home yourself.” The words tumbled out of my mouth easily, as I realised that I quite meant them. I didn’t like to think what could happen to such a beautiful creature walking the streets alone at night. 

Claire threw her head back and laughed.

“Your gentlemanly behaviour is very old worldly Jamie. I walk home by myself every night, I’m quite used to it by now. Unless there is a chance you could conjure up a carriage, I’d be happy to walk home with you, although I warn you it will be slow, I feel far to full from the dinner, wine and dessert to walk at a pace any faster than a sloth.”

“Ahhh my lady, I digress, I have no carriage to offer, as I too walked from home. Will a piggy back suffice?” I said with a grin. I had an overwhelming desire to try to conjure a carriage right then and there, horses and all, no matter what it took. It seemed that along with giving me jelly legs, this beautiful woman was attempting to bewitch my mind as well.

“It’s a no to the piggy back ride, come on let’s start walking, it’s bloody freezing out here, I don’t live far away at all.”

Her thin jacket didn’t look overly warm, meanwhile I had on a sweater and a jacket. As we began to walk I draped my jacket over her shoulders, and without protest she wiggled into it.

“So you’ve told me about the army, and you’ve told me about the group meetings you hold, and I know I’ve already told you, but I am very thankful that those men have you to turn to....”

I watched as she continued to talk, she was fiddling with her necklace, and I had time to admire her delicate, milky white neck, and her long fingers. I began to imagine those long fingers cupping my face. 

.....”Sorry, I’m droning on, perhaps I’m a little too passionate. Will you tell me about your work?” She looked up at me again, her heart shaped face had taken my breath away each time she had done this.

“There isn’t much te tell honestly, I own a construction company with my family, and we have a few restaurants, mostly I just spend a lot o’ time not doing much.”  
I said this to her, knowing that in truth I spent very little time doing ‘not much’.

“A construction company huh? That actually isn’t too hard to imagine.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. And what about ye Claire, tell me something about ye; anything, I’ve been so busy monopolising our conversations this evening, I think it’s yer turn.”

“Anything?” She said with a salacious smile.

“Anything.”

“Well I might not be fit for Psychology.”

“And what, pray tell, would make you say such a thing?”

“Because for the life of me I can’t understand what it is about you that makes me want to spill my guts. To tell you my deepest darkest secrets.”

I was a little taken aback by her admission. Her candidness had been unexpected, mainly because, thus far, she had remained a closed book, giving few details about herself, and finding ways to deflect. I turned to her, instinct told me to touch her somehow, I realised that she had already come to a stop. 

I turned to her and cupped her chin.  
“I couldn’t tell ye, Claire. But I can tell you that I feel the same way with ye. It’s like I’ve known ye most of my life.”

She averted my gaze, and fumbled a little with her purse.  
“Well this is me, I live right up there. I must thank you, this is the first night I’ve been kept out so long that I haven’t been allowed to stare out of my window at the jogger who runs every night, well almost every night anyway. The poor soul has a life story he is completely unaware of thanks to me.”

“Is that so?” I’d had time to pull eyes away from her, to realise that we were in fact right across from my building, and that she had, in fact, been talking about me.

“Yes, he is a tortured soul; his parents are no longer living, and he hasn’t a family of his own, so he runs to keep himself from being lonely at the end of the work day.”

“I’ll be sure te tell him.” Jamie hadn’t the heart to tell her how close she actually was to the truth. 

“T-tell him? You know him?”

“I am him.” He smiled.

“You didn’t run this weekend.” She breathed. 

The electricity between them could have shocked even a passer by.

“I know, I was at my sisters house visiting with her bairns and the rest of my family.”

“I see, well I feel like a right idiot. I’m sorry.” She did look contrite as she apologised.

“I find it flattering that ye’ve been keeping an eye on me, Claire. Take it from someone who knows, evenings can be lonely, I wouldna begrudge someone their right te look out their own window.”

Without being able to see it, Jamie knew she was blushing, he could feel the heat radiating from her. 

She shrugged off his jacket and placed it in his hands. 

“Thank you Jamie for a wonderful evening. It was a most unexpected and pleasant twist in events.”

“Thank ye, Claire. That it was.”

She made to turn and walk towards the door to her apartment building, but I couldn’t let her. I gently took her hand, and pulled her back towards me. 

Her eyes were fixed upon mine.

I tucked a stray tendril behind her ear.

Her hand reached for my face, and she gently stroked my cheek.

I put my hand into the crook of her neck, my fingers felt like they had hit satin sheets, her skin was so soft, eventually I allowed them to intertwine with her curly, raven locks. 

I sensed her body giving me permission to kiss her, and I didn’t stop to question it.

I bent down and let my lips brush hers. It took my breath away, I quite literally stopped breathing. She gently parted her lips, and we explored each other; she tasted like the sweetest honey.

After what I’m sure was a lifetime, we came apart. 

Claire smiled a shy smile. 

“Thank you again Jamie, that was, well, you know, amazing.”

“Can I see ye again Claire?”

“I had rather hoped so. Can I give you my business card?”

“I’d like that verra much.”

She started writing on the card. 

“And this is my home number.” She said, pointing to what she had written. 

I took one of my business cards out of my shirt pocket, and put it in her hand, and left my other hand come to a rest over it.  
“Ye’ll call won’t ye?”

She nodded, I let her hand go, and she walked towards the door of her apartment building. She threw me a backwards glance, and gave a small awkward wave.

. . . . . .

I entered my apartment, switched on the light, and walked straight to the window. I half expected him to still be standing in the street. But he had gone. 

I continued to watch, and a few moments later the light came on in his apartment. 

An irrational part of me wanted to stay in the clothes I was wearing forever, because I could smell Jamie on them. But I needed comfortable pyjamas, tea, and a date with my thoughts; so that I could re-live the evening over and over again. 

I caught myself grinning like a Cheshire Cat as I made myself a cup of tea. As I was adding a lump of sugar, I was startled by the sound of my telephone. 

I expected it was Joe, finally letting me know he had arrived safely. 

What I did not expect was Jamie’s Scottish burr. 

“I tried te wait, but I wanted te call and wish ye goodnight Claire.”

“Goodnight Jamie.” I whispered hoarsely down the line. 

He hung up, and I continued to cradle the phone in my hand for at least a minute afterwards.

I neglected my tea, and opted to jump straight into bed. I hugged the unused pillow on the other side of the bed, I closed my eyes and imagined his lips on mine again.  
At some stage, not too long after, I drifted off to sleep feeling more content than I had in years. Joe’s text sometime in the night didn’t even wake my slumber, for I was encased in my pillow haven, dreaming of my Scot.


	7. Chapter 6: Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Jamie explore new territory.

The water in my shower was beating down upon my back, it was searing hot, my skin raw red as a result. But today there was no time to be aware of pain, or anything else for that matter.  
All that there was, all that I was consumed with; was her. She was there every time I closed my eyes, black and white scenes of our evening together flashed in my mind like someone moving through slides on a projector screen.  
I could still smell her hair, and taste her lips. I could trace her form as though she were standing right before me. In my minds eye I was looking in the window of the restaurant where I had happened across her, my nose so close to the glass, that my breath was fogging up the cold pane, making it impossible to see her without stepping back or going in, I could feel myself making my mind up all over again to introduce myself to her, my feet carrying themselves into the restaurant and right up to her table, my hand encasing hers.

It was the smell of my minty, and overly strong body wash that brought me crashing back down to earth. I lathered quickly as the mint tended to make one tingle in ones privates if left there too long. 

I dressed carefully, finding myself concerned with my appearance in case I was to run into her. As I made my morning coffee, I found myself watching the phone as if it were a ticking time bomb, I’d been waiting for her to call, but so far nothing. It had been three days since our dinner together, she’d no doubt watched me as I jogged in the evening, but I hadn’t seen her. She was alluding me, her work day began earlier than mine did, but my work day was generally longer. What I wanted more than anything in the world, was to be near her again.  
I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt this way, it was as though I was a teenage boy again, lusting after the women folk without my brain wired up properly; my medulla oblongata was only able to function to give me cock stands at the most inopportune times.  
I wanted to put an end to my own suffering, so I hastily picked up the phone and dialled her number before I talked myself out of it again. 

. . . . . .

I was too warm, and I felt the need to get out of the warmth before I suffocated. Something in the distance was ringing. I opened my eyes, immediately confused as to why there was so much light, and glanced at the alarm on my bedside table.

“9AM!!!!!!!!!! Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I had my first patient at 9:15, and I hated the idea that I’d missed my window for a proper breakfast.

I picked up the phone without checking caller ID.

“Yes, listen it’s not a good time, I’m so bloody late for work. Can this wait?”

“Hello Claire.” Oh fuck, fuckity, fuck, it was him, oh what royally terrible timing he had. “What I was goin’ to say can wait, do ye need a lift to work?”

My saviour!

“That would be fantastic! Meet you on the street in 5?”

A very short five minutes later I was downstairs, my suit was on, my shoes were not, and I was dragging my hair brush through the unrelenting knots in my hair. Oh Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, how was I ever going to look presentable.

There he was leaning on his car, looking like an absolute God. He chuckled when he saw me. 

“Good morning Claire, ye look lovely.”  
His response was perfunctory I was sure, because I knew I looked the opposite of ‘lovely’. He kissed my cheek, and opened the car door for me. 

I got in, taking in the luxurious surroundings of his car, and realising after a moment that my bottom was being gently heated. I looked over to him.

“Well this is certainly fancy. You must be very good at constructing.”

“Mmph.” Was all he ‘said’ in response.

He took off like a rocket, it was 9:07 and I was starting to feel relieved; it was likely I would make it to work in time. 

We glanced sidelong at each other smiling, I had begun reattempting the hair flattening process conspicuously in between these little glances. Then, without warning, he burst into laughter.

“I’m sorry Claire.” He said through splutters. “It’s just yer hair.”

“And what about it?” I said, feigning an irritated voice, all the while grinning cheekily at him. 

“It looks as though a bird has been nesting in it.” He was trying to stifle his laughter, and take on a more serious expression, but it was clearly a losing battle. “I’ve got a water bottle in the back there somewhere, maybe ye can try and wet it? I dinna know what else to suggest.”

“Good thinking sir.” I made a show of conducting the hair wetting process, in an attempt to keep the good humour going, I was worried we were about to prance into serious territory about why I hadn’t called him.

The car came to a stop, I stowed the hair brush away and lent over to give Jamie a swift kiss on the cheek. 

He turned to kiss me on the lips instead. The blush was spreading again. I got out of the car completely dazed. I waved goodbye to him, and barely remembered to run into the building to meet my first client.  
I unlocked the door to Joe’s practice. Thankfully I’d made it before Louise, I turned on all of the lights, and scurried into my office. The tiny mirror on my desk, showed a woman with bad hair and smudged lipstick. The hair was a lost cause, but the lipstick problem, most definitely caused by Jamie’s insatiable lips, would have to be fixed. 

The entry bell rang, and I came out to greet Louise. 

“Good morning Louise, come in and take a seat. How has your week been so far?” 

“Thank you Claire.”

I noticed that Louise had blatantly ignored my question about her week. I chose not to press her straight away, hoping that she would be forthcoming with the information in her own good time.

“Shall we pick up where we left last week?”

“I suppose....” She made a noise as though to continue, but then abruptly said “But before we do, I’m a little worried that I have no where to stay.”

“Can you elaborate Louise? What has happened in this week that would make you say that?”

“Jules doesn’t want me, he’s kicked me out of the house.” She began to cry uncontrollably. “And Charlie says I can’t be with him because he has no permanent housing either.” I could barely understand her last words through her sobs, she was wringing her hands and clearly felt incredibly desperate. 

I handed her tissue after tissue, and gently consoled her. “It will be alright Louise, you and your baby will be safe. I think we need to discuss finding you both some accomodation?”

“Oh, thank you Claire. I don’t know what to do, how can I ever be a mother?”  
Her voice cracked as she asked me this. 

I considered my answer carefully.  
“Louise, some think that the crux of being a parent is to be perfect and to be unwavering in this perfection, however it is my belief that the best parents are those who are unafraid to seek help and who are constantly willing and open to change and to grow as parents. I see you trying to change your circumstance, I see you asking for assistance. I see someone trying to ready themselves for one of the biggest changes that life can throw at us.

Louise remained still, clearly contemplating my words. It had been my hope that what I had said would resonate, and force her to test her own questions about her ability for accuracy.

I spent the rest of the session with Louise devising a plan with a local women’s shelter to get her into a room temporarily. I organised to have Louise return to me later in the week, so that I could check on her progress, and to allow me time to set up a case plan for her.  
She’d thanked me profusely as she left, but I couldn’t help but feel as though I hadn’t done nearly enough.

By days end I was weary; it immersed the very depths of my soul, spreading like an out of control wild fire. I tidied my desk, switched off the lights, and trudged out. When I reached the street, I saw the familiar face of Jamie, he was leaning up against his car. 

I approached him without uttering a single word, and collapsed into his arms. He gathered me into him and made soothing noises and muttered words that were completely foreign to me, “Tha e ceart gu leòr” (It’s ok).  
“Thank you for being here Jamie, how did you know?” I looked up at him, realising at that moment how grateful I was that he a present entity in my life.

His face was veiled, his thoughts completely unknown to me, and yet I could tell by his body language that he was holding something back.  
“You’ve got one hell of a poker face Fraser.”

He smiled a small smile, and let go of me his brow furrowing. Perhaps he had expected me to know what he wanted to say. And maybe somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I did.

“Claire, lass, I wanted to know why ye didna call? I thought we’d had such a wonderful time, but these last three days I’ve been in hell, wondering if I’d done the wrong thing by calling ye right away, or if I’d imagined that ye felt the same way.”

“You didn’t imagine it Jamie, I enjoyed, and do enjoy your company very much. I’m sorry.” I hesitated, trying to find the words to convey my meaning. “I’m very good at being alone, but I fall woefully short when it comes to fostering relationships.”

He ran his hands through his hair, and looked at his feet guiltily. “Oh lass, I dinna want ye to feel that ye have to explain yourself to me. I dinna want ye to think that I’m trying to possess every part of your life”... He paused for a moment, and then continued in an almost inaudible whisper. “No matter how much I might want to.” He reached for my hands, and pulled them to his chest. 

This was the part of Jamie that I had begun to admire, his ability to share his feelings so unashamedly. For whatever reason I felt the need to reciprocate each time, and this frightened me, I wasn’t ready to lay my heart open just yet. 

. . . . . . .  
I’d said more than I’d meant to, each word I uttered resounded in my head like an echo, as though doomed to replay until her response came; I desperately wanted this relief. However she didn’t utter a word.

“Come lass, lets go, I’m going to make ye dinner.” I opened the door and she slid into the car.

I blared music for the short ride home, hoping that it would fill the gap in conversation, but it was in futility. Instead of solace I found myself getting irritated by the very noise of it, each rhythmic beat made my anxiety about her silence worse.

Once we were in the lift on the way up to my apartment, she sidled closer to me, perhaps feeling, as I did, the need for closeness. When I opened the door to my apartment I made to step in, but realised that she was rooted in place. 

“Jamie, it’s enormous.”

I joked “Well usually when I hear that they are no’ referring to my living arrangements.”

She laughed “I can’t attest to the enormity of that, but this apartment it’s breathtaking.” 

“I’m glad ye like it lass, come in and make yerself at home. Would ye like a glass of wine?” As I poured her a glass of my favourite red wine I thought of how it would be if this were her home. She placed her belongings on a bar stool, thanked me for the wine, and slowly wandered off.

I began to prepare dinner, keeping watchful eyes on her as she walked around admiring my home, almost losing a finger to my knife as I did so. Claire seemed impressed, I heard her small gasp when she entered my study, and for five minutes she brushed her fingers of the spine of each volume in her reach. I let our dinner stay on the stove to simmer, and went in search of her, she was standing in the doorway of my guest bathroom, I came up behind her, and rested my chin on her shoulder.  
“The bath in here looks like pure heaven, I can’t remember the last time I had a bath, I’ve only a shower in my apartment, and before that they were far too small for my frame.”

“Would ye like one Claire? A bath I mean.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t.” She said the words, but I sensed how tempted she was.

“I could draw ye a bath, and ye could soak while I finish dinner?”

She turned to me and asked “You won’t stay?” I felt a fire ignite in my belly, a slow burn of excitement at the thought of seeing her naked in my bath. My imagination ran away with me; how she might look, the colour of her skin in her most intimate places. I drew her closer, and bent to kiss her, muttering into her mouth “I will if ye want me to.”

I sat down on the edge of the bath, turning the taps on and drizzling in a Gardenia scented bath soap.  
She set her glass down and began by kicking off her shoes. Then unzipping and stepping out of her pants, I noticed her legs seemed endlessly long, they looked shiny and smooth, without a mark on them. Her underwear was practical; a flesh coloured g-string, it left little to the imagination. As she removed her jacket and began to unbutton her shirt, my breathing hitched, once the shirt was removed she took a couple of steps back, as though allowing me to take in her full form. I stepped towards her again, needing, with every part of me, to touch her. She removed her bra as I came towards her, and I stopped in my tracks, drinking her in.  
Her nipples were erect, they were the softest shade of blush, rosy and inviting. Her breasts were full, not overly large, but suited her perfectly. I reached out to caress a nipple, taking a final step forward, I kissed her open and wanting mouth furiously, as my hands fondled her breasts, thrumming her nipples between my thumb and fore finger. She moaned as I did so. “Oh Jamie, God that feels good.”  
My fingers moved from her breasts, tracing down to her navel, I toyed with the fabric of her g-string, pulling at it, trying to remove it. It slipped down her thighs to her ankles, and she stepped gently out of them. I removed my lips from hers, and dared to look down at the mound between her legs. Her honey pot was beautiful, visibly slick with wetness. It took all of the strength I had not to reach out and touch her, I didn’t want to be presumptuous, no matter how much blood flowed away from my brain towards my hard cock, I couldn’t lose sight of this.  
. . . . . . 

I forced myself away from his touch, and stepped into the bath. It was warm and fragrant, the water enveloped me in its safe cocoon. The wine had made me brave, and I was beginning to feel ashamed for my boldness.

“Ye are beautiful mo nighean donn.”

“What does it mean, what you said?”

“My brown haired lass.”

“Yours?”

“Mine.”

. . . . . 

To be continued.


	8. Chapter 7: Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut continued. Enjoy.

Chapter 7: Discovery

Previously: Claire undressing and bathing in front of Jamie, prepare for smut continued. Happy reading.

“Jamie will you come in?” She asked, her eyes boring into mine, willing me to concede.

“I canna, our dinner willna be more than a mangled lump of coal if I dinna go and tend to it.”

“To hell with dinner, this bath is more than big enough for us both.” 

“Ok lass, let me go and turn off the stove, I dinna mind a spoiled dinner, but I do mind a burned house.” I hastily made my way back to the kitchen, gulping air as I did. I could feel the anxiety gripping every inch of my body, no matter how much air filled my lungs I felt completely out of breath; my head was swimming.

Getting into a bath tub was out of my comfort zone. I hadn’t had a bath since the injuries to my back, showers no problem, but baths were a whole other matter entirely, they had effectively been the only thing that had helped the shrapnel wounds on my back to heal. The pain of the concoctions they’d put in the bath water was so excruciating, my eyes still watered thinking about it. I knew that conceding to her would be good for me, and it was the thought of intimacy with her that helped me to maintain any sense of levelheadedness about conquering my fear. Fear. Was that too strong a word?

I turned the stove off, the aroma of the Coq Au Vin was delicious, I had looked forward to sharing another meal with her, but now I wanted nothing more than to have her in my arms.   
I was back in the doorway of the bathroom, I’d brought the wine back with me intending to refill her glass, I stood and watched her for a moment. Each of her movements was so graceful, she’d immersed her hair completely in the water and it was smoothed onto her back, she was humming a bonny little tune. The light in the room reflected off of breasts, her nipples just above the water line. I cleared my throat, and she automatically curled herself into a ball.

“Are ye ready for company Claire?” I could feel my nerves as I said the words.

“Of course.” She didn’t meet my eyes as she said this, shyness had overcome her, leaving the tipsy vixen foreshadowed. 

I undressed promptly. Without looking, I knew that she was watching my every move. She shifted to allow me space to get in, I took one look at the water, closed my eyes, and stepped in. I lowered myself into the water, my whole body was tense. What I had expected was far worse than the reality of it, and I was quickly distracted by my naked proximity to Claire. We were facing each other, admiring one another.   
I reached my arms out, and drew her to me. Our lips met, she was floating on top of me, our bodies only meeting briefly. Without warning her hands began to explore, and my body reacted immediately. 

She gripped my manhood gently, her hand moving upwards and downwards in a steady rhythm.   
Our kisses were soft, explorative, the taste of her was enrapturing. 

I was cupping her breasts again with my hand, my free hand making its way down to squeeze her gorgeously round arse, and then continued to trace every inch of her body I could reach, her skin suddenly covered in goosebumps.   
I was glad that my touch was having this effect on her. Claire’s touch was driving me wild, I wanted to yell out, tell her to stop before I exploded, but no words or sound came out. 

Her hands left my manhood, and without warning her lips were on mine again, and this time it was fast and wanting, her body gently grinding against mine.  
I took her face in my hands, and slowed the kisses, I knew we needed to get out of this bath. I wanted her to eat, and be sure that her mind was clear before we took the next step. 

She, however, clearly had other ideas.

“Jamie?”

“Yes lass?”

“I want you to take me.”

Take her. Good lord. Oh how I wanted her.

“I think we should eat something first Claire, get our wits about us.”

She remained silent, and then abruptly stood to exit the bath, reaching for a towel. Wrapping the towel around her hastily, and made movements to begin picking up her clothes from the floor. 

I stepped out after her, reaching for her arm to stop her, the look she had on her face was one of deepest shame, I felt guilty for rebuffing her. I needed her to know how much I longed for her, but at the same time I needed her to understand that I had a desire for everything to be perfect before we had sex. 

“Claire, please look at me.”

She did, reluctantly, her face now expressionless.

“I want ye to know that I want ye, my whole body burns for ye. It is taking all of the willpower in the world to stop me from dragging ye to my bed and making love to ye. But that is exactly what I want to do, I want to make love, I dinna want to just fuck you.”   
I expected to see disappointment on her face, but she was smiling. Stepping towards me so that we were only a couple of inches from each other she said  
“You know just how to make me feel foolish Jamie, I’m sorry. Heat of passion. So you know; this isn’t something that I would normally do, I like you and I very much enjoy our time together.” 

The towel covering her had dropped as she said these words, and she had made no effort to attempt to catch it.   
I pulled her to me, hugging her. 

Why was I trying to put this fire out? I wanted it to burn, and burn only for her.

I bent slightly and picked her up, I wasn’t holding anything back, I kissed her forcefully and she met each one of my kisses with a moan that made my cock so incredibly hard. Her legs were wrapped around my waist, and as I walked I felt my cock brush against her wet entrance every now and again. Holy hell.

When we finally made it to my bedroom, I practically threw her down into my bed. I wanted to worship her, she looked like an angel shrouded in white laying on my bed spread. I knelt on the ground, grabbed her hips, pulling her honey pot towards my face. As soon as my tongue touched her inner most folds, I was lost, lost to her, lost to her most sacred spot. The taste was glorious, my tongue entered her and she bucked against me, I held onto her thighs ensuring she remained prisoner.

My mouth felt her release before she made any significant noise, she sat up as she climaxed, her hands in my hair.   
“Jamieeeeeeeee”

She laid back down, eyes closed, panting softly. I crawled on to her, hovering just above her laying kisses on her neck, her breasts, sucking lightly on her nipples, kissing all the way down to navel and back. She was stirring again.

Did she feel it? Nothing had ever felt so right in my entire life.  
“Christ Jamie, I don’t know what’s happening.”

I didn’t stop my assault of kisses as I responded, “Me either lass, but it feels good doesn’t it?”

“Yes, please lets not stop.”

Her lips were inviting me to kiss them, I looked into her eyes as I leaned in.   
I could see right into her soul, she was open to me, every secret, every lie, revealed.

As we kissed, my cock was massaging her slick entrance and the nub of her clitoris. I pushed my hips forward a little edging my cock into her.  
I watched her beautiful face and heard her tiny moan as I did this, and it was my complete undoing. I thrust the rest of the way into her, and she closed her eyes, digging her fingers into my back.   
I moved in her slowly at first, I was afraid I’d come too quickly if I didn’t. Every part of her was perfect, including the way we fit together like this.   
I started to move faster, I felt her getting tighter, and she climaxed again, making no sound whatsoever.   
When she’d finished I stopped moving to kiss her, and when I pulled my mouth from hers, I thrust hard and deep into her, moving quickly, I felt my own release coming.  
I’d screwed my eyes up so tight that I’d gone momentarily blind, as I began to come. Every part of me was pouring itself into her.   
I crawled off of her, laying on my side, spooning her. Our union had been short, shorter than I would have liked, but I knew there was no way I’d have been able to hold on much longer. 

“Are you ok?” I asked.

“That was wonderful Jamie, I’m exhausted.”

“Me too”.  
I nestled closer to her, drinking in her scent.

“Your skin is on fire Jamie. It’s making me sleepy.” She stifled a yawn.

I kissed her hair, and closed my eyes.

. . . . . .

 

When I woke up she’d gone. 

She’d left a note.

Thank you for last night, I don’t mean to be cliché by leaving, I just have an early client. Let’s do something this afternoon if you are free. I finish with my last client at 4 today.  
-Claire x

. . . . . . 

“Lad are ye alive?” Murtagh was shaking me from my sleep. I must have drifted off at my desk.

“Aye Uncle, I’m alive.”

“It’s two in the afternoon, what are ye doing sleepin’ in here? We have a meetin’.”

“Claire and I, last night, we had a late night together. And what meeting?”

He was grinning from ear to ear.  
“So ye and the lassie finally got there then. The settlement meeting for the house in Broch Mordha, we got the house.”

I sat bolt upright.

“We did? This is perfect! Any chance ye can handle the meeting by yourself? I’ve just decided where I’m taking Claire this afternoon.”

“I can handle it myself Nephew, but I thought ye’d want te come.”

“I would, and I am very grateful to ye for getting the house Uncle, but I have somewhere else I need to be. How long will settlement be?”

“10 days.”

“Good, and ye’ll have Rupert start on the house as soon as settlement is done?”

“Already organised lad.”

“Thank ye Uncle.” 

I rushed out of the office, trying to get to my car as quickly as possible so that I could head home to change.

It was four, and I stood by my car as I had done the day before, waiting for Claire. I’d spent the last two hours showering, packing a picnic and scouring the city for the nicest bouquet of flowers.  
Her face lit up when she saw me.   
When she reached the car she smiled and kissed me on the cheek.  
“Do we have time to stop by my apartment quickly? I was hoping to change quickly, and I’ve got some papers I need to sign.”

“Of course we have time, but first I want to give you something.” I opened the passenger door and pulled the largest bouquet of white and violet flowers from the seat. 

“They are beautiful Jamie” she said, taking the bouquet and bringing them to her nose to smell the flowers. 

“Ok beautiful lassie, in you get, lets get you home so that I can take you on this special outing.”

“Sounds exciting, can you tell me about it?”

I shook my head. “Not yet, once we are on our way there I’ll tell you about it.”

“Sounds ominous, I see you’ve brought a picnic.”

“Not ominous at all, I assumed you would be hungry.”

“You were right, I’m starved.”

. . . . . .

A few short minutes later Jamie pulled up on the street outside my apartment. I took the bouquet with me and waved him a quick goodbye, promising to be back in a minute. 

I found a vase for the flowers, putting them on my tiny dining table, and took a seat in front of them to sign the pieces of paper my lawyer had left at my office. 

I tried to feel nothing as I signed away the home my parents had lived in. The house had been left to me, and I hadn’t intended to do anything with it. I had wanted to leave it to rot, just as the dreams and memories of my youth had done. Obviously my Uncle and I were the only ones who knew of it’s existence.   
It was dilapidated, and worth very little because of this. But I had decided earlier in the year that it was time someone new lived and loved in the house, just as my parents had done.

As I signed I noted that it was a Fraser Family Trust buying the property.  
Fraser.  
A wildly popular name in merry old Scotland. Well I hoped they’d breathe new life into the house.

I changed into some more casual attire and skipped out of the front door, preparing for an adventure with Jamie.

We chatted about nothing and everything as he drove further and further into the countryside. I paid very little attention to where we were as most of the places we passed were completely unfamiliar to me, I had been a city dweller for too long.  
Each place we travelled through was more beautiful than the last. 

“Claire I wanted to show you something, it’s why we are here, or almost there anyway. It’s a new project Fraser Construction is going to be working on.”  
As he said the words we passed a sign saying ‘Broch Mordha’.  
My stomach did a somersault and an internally resounding flop.

Broch Mordha.  
Was this some kind of a joke?  
Did he know this is where I spent the last of my childhood?

I hoped he’d keep driving through, but a part of me knew he wouldn’t. He turned into a driveway, and it was then I knew.  
He had bought my parents home, but why here? 

When he pulled up outside of the house, I was hit with a wave of nausea. I hadn’t seen the house, but in photos, since I’d left as a child. I opened the car door, and raced to the nearest bushes, heaving.

“Lass what’s the matter?” I heard his hurried steps crunching the gravel as he approached. 

Once I knew that I could stand up, and that the nausea had dissipated, I turned to look at him.   
“Why did you buy this house Jamie?”

“Claire, ye are white as a ghost.” I could tell by the look on his face that my reaction had stunned him. “I bought the house because my family estate is next to this one, and my Uncle Murtagh thought this might be a nice house for me to come back to when I visit. Why are ye asking me this mo nighean donn, I thought ye would be happy for me, and I thought perhaps we might visit here together.”

“Your family estate is next to this one?”

“Yes.”  
“On which side of this land?”

He pointed towards the fence near where my parents had kept their herb garden. My heart sank, no wonder he had looked so disturbingly familiar when I had seen him at the practice.

“Sawny?”

His mouth dropped open.   
“How can you know my nickname? You aren’t..” He stammered. “You aren’t the Sassenach girl who lived here are you?”

“Yes. I am. And now you must understand why I can’t be here. This house belonged to my parents, and now they are dead. I wanted to sell it so that I could leave my past behind.” I was utterly crestfallen.

How could he! How could this happen!

“Oh Jamie, you’ve spoiled everything!”

Without a thought or a care I turned and I ran, before I could be confronted with anything else, before I could be reasoned with. I ran across paddocks, through fields and bushes before I reached a house and a telephone, I rang a cab and got out of Broch Mordha and away from the ghosts of my past.


	9. Chapter 8: What Could Have Been

Chapter 8: What Could Have Been

I was hollow. I didn’t have a feeling left in me. The clipboard in front of me asked fairly simple questions, but nothing seemed answerable today.  
The women’s clinic in Glasgow was quiet today, I’d had my assessment and I’d chosen today to have my procedure. It happened to be the anniversary of my parents death, so this day could get no worse in mind. My soul secretly hoped that my parents would look after my baby that would never be born, I hoped they were close today.  
. . . . . .

It had been two and a half months since Jamie had taken me to show off his ‘project’. I watched from my apartment window for the whole weekend following that fated Friday, I watched Jamie’s car pull into the car park of his apartment building, I watched as he came out onto the street making rapid phone calls trying to find me. No light was switched on in my apartment that weekend. No door was answered, even when I heard his concerned voice on the other side, or the furious pounding of his fist.  
I rang Joe, making my excuses telling him that I was sick, and needed to take a vacation for two weeks at least. Joe understood, grateful that I had a replacement to recommend.  
Two further weeks passed, and being house bound had begun to take its toll, I did really begin to feel ill. It began with vomiting, and I was so tired all the time. It took me 5 weeks post Jamie, 5 weeks of no working, and constantly feeling ill, to realise that my period was late. I was pregnant. 

Joe visited often, but it was only upon making my realisation that I finally confided in him. I was desperate. 

“Lady Jane, every part of your complicated puzzle finally makes sense. My question is what is your next move?”

“I can’t keep this baby Joe, it’s everything I ever wanted, but not without a family, it isn’t the right time.” Saying the words was like swallowing a big bitter pill. 

“And Jamie? What do you tell him?”

“Nothing. He stopped coming after I spent my second week hiding, his daily flowers stopped with his visits. I assume he’s moved on by now, the curtains are drawn because I’ve forbidden myself to look.”

Whether or not my reasoning was rational, I found I couldn’t face Jamie again, knowing that he was the boy from my childhood meant that there was still one living connection to my parents and their time on this earth. To me this connection was unacceptable and painful. I was afraid that if I continued to spend time with him that every time I looked at him I would only see our past selves.

“I’ll support you in whatever you decide Jane, but please let me help you. Just promise me that you will take a good amount of time to think things over before you do something that can’t be undone.”

“I will Joe, thank you.” Tears streaked my face, I was so glad to have a confidant. I felt completely broken, and hopelessly alone.

I went back to work eventually, I took a different route to get there, ate my lunch religiously in my office, and purposely went home late at night, after I knew Jamie would have finished his evening jog.

There was still the issue of my pregnancy, I’d set up an appointment in Glasgow to have an assessment done. Joe’s wife Gail would travel with me, and stay the week with me there. Glasgow was anonymous, I knew too many doctors and therapists in Edinburgh and I didn’t want them gossiping about me.  
A problem that I hadn’t considered was the visible bump that had begun to protrude from my usually thin form, I had lost weight too, so it made my pregnancy even more obvious. I solved this issue during the day by wearing loose fitting dresses and layers to work, but at night I was battling a hideous case of the sweats and was wearing as little as possible.  
On the evening before my trip to Glasgow, I was going through one such case of the night sweats, I was wearing a little tank top and pyjama shorts, but my lack of clothing wasn’t curing it. I grabbed my keys and decided on a short late night stroll downstairs to venture for fresh air. I sat on the bench outside of my apartment building for a time, my thoughts drifting, but I didn’t allow myself to think of the life growing inside of me; I never did.  
I stood, and as I turned, I heard his voice. “Claire! Don’t walk away from me, you’ve had me out of my mind with worry.”

I stayed with my back to him, but he gripped my shoulder and turned me. His mouth moved as if to continue ranting, but when he looked me up and down he remained silent, as though the wind had been taken out of him.  
“Claire.... ye’re... ye’re pregnant.”

“I know.” 

He was clearly lost for words, I watched his internal battle; would he embrace me like his body told me he wanted to, would he yell at me, or would he ask the question he was burning to ask. 

“Is it mine?”

“No.” I lied. My cheeks were burning, I was grateful for the dark, it disguised my blush. 

“Then whose is it? You’ve been holed up in that apartment of yers for weeks. Have ye been seeing someone who can teleport?” His voice gave away a trace of anger, he had obviously been keeping an eye on me. “Do ye take me for a fool Claire? Tell me!” I didn’t respond, so he continued. “I’ve been sitting in silence, sometimes for hours at the other side of yer door, listening to yer crying, yer breathing, yer movements about the house. I’ve been trying to figure out why ye wouldna see me, and to work out a way to apologise. I stopped sending flowers, because it depressed me to watch them die on the doorstep. But dinna think for a second I stopped coming to check on ye.”

His words made my eyes prick with tears. I felt terrible, this man who hardly knew me, now likely felt extremely responsible for my welfare. And I wanted nothing to do with it. His presence was like a knife in my heart. 

“Claire, I’ll sell the house, I’ll do anything, please just forgive me.” His pleading made me weak. I allowed him closer, up until now I had been taking steps back every time he took steps forward. His hand brushed my cheek, and he reached for my stomach, as he did so I took several steps back. “Why won’t ye let me touch ye Sassenach?” It was the recognition of the name he used for me that made me snap.

“Because if you touch me I’ll melt, and I can’t be around you, even just hearing you call me ‘Sassenach’ again it reminds me of a time when my parents were alive, I’ve already laid those memories to rest. This isn’t your child I’m carrying.”

“Yes it is Claire, ye are a terrible liar. I’ve gone through things in my life too Claire, but I choose not to run from them anymore, my parents are dead too, had ye considered that? That I ken the pain ye are going through?”

Honestly the thought had not occurred to me, and it really didn’t change much. He had dealt with his past, and I hadn’t, no one could force me to, not even him.  
As I considered his words he walked towards me and took my hand in his, before I could protest he placed his other hand on my stomach. 

“Can we talk about all of this Claire?”

“What ‘this’ do you want to discuss? My pregnancy? My house that you now own?”

“The bairn Claire, I ken that I might not be able to fix anything else to your liking, but I can help you with the bairn. Will you think about it?”

I barely nodded as I escaped his arms. I made to walk away, but I couldn’t help myself, I looked into his eyes. He whispered “Please, think about it.”

. . . . .

The following day I was sitting next to Gail on a plane headed for Glasgow, more determined than ever that I was doing the right thing for me. I wasn’t ready to be a mother, and certainly not the mother to Jamie ‘Sawny’ Fraser’s child.  
My time in Glasgow had been a blur, and the day had finally come, I knew Gail expected me not to go through with it; she watched me like a hawk as I stared at the questions on the clipboard. 

My stubbornness prevailed. Whether this proved to be a good or bad thing, only time would tell. I finished the paperwork, and was brought into a room where I put on a paper gown. The procedure was short, and I went back to the hotel room with Gail immediately after. Then I slept, and cried, and slept for 72 hours, barely eating, before I had to pack and get back to my life. 

When the car pulled up outside of my apartment, I gave Gail a kiss on the cheek and thanked her for escorting me and for being there. I dropped my bags inside my apartment, and decided to head straight out again and go for a walk. I felt fragile, health wise I was fine, I had been healing nicely, and almost all traces of my pregnancy had disappeared. My soul, on the other hand, needed desperate attention. I walked awhile and then headed for my favourite bench seat, but it was occupied.

He had heard me coming. “Where have you been?” He asked, “I’ve been by yer apartment everyday, but I havena heard ye, did ye go somewhere? Did ye think about what I said?”

He looked up, surveying me. It dawned on him that I was no longer sporting the bump of early pregnancy. He stood up, and gave me a look that I didn’t recognise.  
“Did ye do this to yerself?” He pointed at my stomach. “Did ye remove it Claire?”

I felt ashamed, and couldn’t muster the words to tell him I had, so I nodded.

I’d never seen someone change so quickly in my life, his expression was one of pure loathing. “How the fuck could ye do it? Take away our bairn. Take it away without even consulting me!”

“It wasn’t your decision to make.” I said simply, believing my words to be true. It wasn’t his choice.

“I’ve been here hoping that ye were taking time to think about what I said to ye last week, and now this shit. I’ll never forgive ye.” His eyes flashed dangerously, but instead of saying anything else, he walked away from me. 

I yelled after him. “You don’t understand Jamie, I wasn’t ready, I don’t know how to have you in my life, I’m scared, I don’t know how to deal with everything I’m feeling about you, about my parents, about the baby.”

He carried on walking. His pace never once faltering.  
I was still convinced what I had done was the right thing; irrespective of how I felt about dealing with Jamie and his relationship to my past, our romantic relationship was too new.  
But when I looked inside of myself, I knew it was only my stubbornness that had carried me this far in my rift with Jamie. What sort of a psychologist could I be when I was so fucked up. I needed to fix it with him, but I had no idea where to start, and quite frankly I wasn’t sure that there was anything I could do.  
What I did know was that while I worked on Jamie, I also needed to work on finally putting my feelings about my parents death to rest. 

I fell into a deep and disturbed slumber once I was back in my apartment and in bed. I hadn’t been able to shake the horrible sinking feeling of loss, the loss of something that I had once wanted so desperately, even knowing it wasn’t the right time, I couldn’t convince myself out of feeling it.


	10. Chapter 9: Life or Something Like It (Part 1)

Chapter 9: Life or Something Like It (Part 1)

Sweat was pouring out of every orifice. My workouts had become more time consuming and gruelling with each subsequent visit. I took every ounce of my anger out on the equipment at the gym. But, for whatever reason, no matter how I punished my body at the gym, or re-lived the horrors of war or the pain of injury, nothing compared to the inexplicable grief I was going through.   
I was so angry at Claire, at the whole situation. What stung most was that I had had no way to resolve or change anything before she had taken the life of my bairn.

I sensed that everyone in my life was concerned, but I chose to ignore it and them for the most part. I spoke only when it was needed, and the rest of my time was spent trapped in the mental fortress of my own making. I chose to reside for a time with Jenny, Ian and their bairns, so that I could leave some distance between myself and Edinburgh, and so that I could be close to the project.

Days seemed to slip away, and far too many of my mornings were spent being woken by Jenny’s bairns dripping water on my face, or finding a congregation of family muttering at the end of my bed. 

After a time, anger at Claire was replaced with sadness, I knew best of all what she had gone through losing both of her parents, and yet she had chosen not to confide in me. She had handled my purchase of her childhood home very poorly, and that had hurt me, but I had been willing to forgive her for it and to make amends in anyway that pleased her. When she wouldn’t respond to me, I chose not to sell the house, but rather to pour my heart and soul into restoring her family home, I’d even had the herb gardens replenished. 

After I discovered her pregnancy, I had asked if construction could be sped up, I wanted to give her the option of seeing how I had transformed the home, or to sell it once more, either way I wanted it to be perfect. I’d hoped that the nine weeks that had passed since she’d fled the site would be enough time to recover from the shock of it.

And then she disappeared again. I prayed it wasn’t for good. I started to plan, to hope for a future with her, I knew she needed time to think about things, and what I had said to her.

When she reappeared showing no signs of pregnancy, I was enraged, completely senseless. I cursed her, and the situation.   
What I couldn’t make sense of was my growing obsession with the house project, I was supposed to despise everything that reminded me of her, but I couldn’t let it go. I spent hours there each day, going over every detail that needed fixing or replacing. It calmed me, helped me to think reasonably, and after a short time the house was unrecognisable, I had painted the exterior a crisp white, added bay windows; each with a comfortable seat to overlook the lands, the driveway was a beautiful round design with a large fountain in the middle, the kitchen had been re-done with marble accents, the wooden floor was stripped and waxed, each room painted a pale shade of grey, and lastly I’d added a fire place to the master bedroom in addition to the one that was already in the lounge area.   
I moved into the house on a temporary basis sometime in December, about two months after my explosion with Claire.

During my visits to Lallybroch Jenny made it a ritual to try and get me to speak of what had happened, but I persisted in my silence, I wasn’t ready to share it yet.  
It wasn’t until an evening spent drinking with Murtagh, that my tongue finally loosened.  
The whiskey had seriously impaired me, I could barely stand, in fact the only way I remained vertical was by putting my weight onto one of the many barrels that were scattered about the Murray’s backyard. 

“Tell me what happened lad.” Murtagh coaxed. 

“I could ‘ave loved her Uncle p’rhaps I did love her, and I woulda loved our bairn.” I slurred. 

“Yer bairn? What do ye mean laddie?”

“She’s pregnant.... Or she was. And that tolla-thon of a house, it was hers, it was her home as a child. She was the sassenach girl.”

“Mhmmph.” Was all Murtagh said to this. He sat down, his face did not betray his thoughts. 

“I dinna ken what to do Uncle, I want her so badly it hurts, I want to help her, but all at the same time I want to tear her limb from limb for being so stubborn. And what scares me is I dinna ken if I can ever see her again, but I feel as though I need her, and willna survive without her.” I knew the words I spoke to be true; I was fearful that I wouldn’t or couldn’t see her again.

Murtagh didn’t utter a sound, he simply strode toward me and took me in his arms.   
I wept unashamedly. 

This became a turning point for me.

I started to meditate, and it eventually came to be my lifeline. I’d wake up each morning just before sunrise, and meditate, healing myself of hurt and of hate. 

Having my Veterans support group to run also helped me a great deal, I could speak honestly and openly to the men (and some women) in the group, just as they spoke openly with me. They listened without judgement, and gave free-flowing advice, most of which I was incredibly grateful for.

With time I began to understand why she had chosen not to have the child, we didn’t know each other all that well, and she had no way to know whether or not we would have remained together, I’d like to have been given the chance all the same, but there was no way to change that now.

During one meditation in January, I said a quiet goodbye to the bairn, vowing to leave it in the past, and acknowledging my choice to forgive Claire.   
. . . . . .

I was disappointed that Christmas and the ringing in of the new year had passed, and I had been too preoccupied with myself to wonder if Claire was ok, she was alone, of course there was Joe, but he had his own family.

I wondered about her so much that I slowly made a transition to return to Edinburgh full-time, I needed to see for myself that she was ok.

The project house was complete, the gardens were being regularly maintained and there was nothing more for me to do there, not to mention my company could wait for me no longer, I’d been doing my best to hold down the fort in Broch Mordha, but my lack of furnishings or office made this somewhat difficult.

I hadn’t been back in my apartment a day before I caught a glimpse of her. She looked so bonny, her hair had grown; it curled down past her shoulders, she was wearing a cream suit and had a brown leather briefcase with her, so I figured it safe to assume she had returned to work.

Without really meaning to I started to plan how we might start over. 

I knew then that it was time to read the many letters she had been sending to me.


	11. A Christmas Ficlet: Fir Lodge

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF MY AMAZING READERS. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR KIND WORDS AND SUPPORT ALWAYS. XX

 

A Christmas Ficlet for The Art of Healing:  
Fir Lodge

It was most definitely snowing, I lay in my bed feeling the change in air surround me. I couldn’t resist a wee peek outside, just to see the first flurry of snow.

I stoked the fire in the master bedroom and went to the window, the ground was already blanketed in white.  
I wondered if Jenny was awake. As children we used to stay up and wait to see the first snow, mesmerised as the first flakes fell.  
I should have stayed at Lallybroch over Christmas, this house was too unfamiliar and the few furnishing I possessed failed to make it feel like home.  
I crawled back into bed, resolving to stay at Lallybroch the next night, so that I could spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with the Murray’s. I was grateful for the warmth of my bed, it was too cold to be out from under the covers.  
. . . . . . 

I watched in the rear view mirror as my project house disappeared from view, I was making the one kilometre trip to Lallybroch, and I’d decided I needed to come up with a name for the house. I couldn’t keep calling it the Beauchamp house, or the project house. Perhaps my nephew and nieces could help me name it.

I pulled into the driveway and it took 10 seconds for the kitchen door to fly open, Jenny called a greeting and young Jamie came barrelling towards me. 

“Ye’ve decided to stay wi’ us for Christmas then brother?”

“Aye, if ye’ll have me.”

“Of course, the bairns will be excited.” She hugged me, and as she pulled away she said, “But ye ken what this means don’t ye? Ye’ll have to be Father Christmas? Ian is no’ convincing with that limp of his.”

I laughed “Well ok then, as long as I dinna have to stay dressed up for long, that suit is itchy.”

She took my bag. “Come in, I’ll fix ye lunch.”  
. . . . . . 

Jamie, Maggie and wee Kitty were most effective at keeping me busy and entertained, I had no idea how much work they could be.

Jenny was busy in the kitchen, the delicious aromas of her cooking wafting through the house. Ian was running errands on his wife’s beck and call, picking up all of the fixings to make the Christmas feasts fabulous. 

I took the youngins out to make snow angels after lunch. Young Jamie whooped with glee as frolicked in the snow, Maggie was more reserved about the process but didn’t hesitate to insist that her angel was by far the nicest looking one. Wee Kitty didn’t cooperate at all, preferring to be held while she watched her siblings.

I turned to wave to Jenny in the kitchen, Kitty mimicked my wave and giggled. Before I had turned around to face the children again, there was a blood curdling scream.  
Maggie cried “Uncoooooooooooooooo!!! Jamie threw a snowbaw at me!”

The young master smiled guiltily in the shadow of the previously built snow man.  
“She was teasing my angels, she said they were messy!”

I knelt down in front of Young Jamie. “It isna nice to throw things at our siblings Jamie, even if ye didna like what Maggie said to ye, it wasna the right thing to do.”

“I ken it Uncle. I’m sorry.”

“Ye need to apologise to Maggie too.”

He looked at his sister, stood up straight and said stiffly, “I’m sorry sister, I willna do it again.”

Maggie sniffed.

“Come wee ones, lets go inside, get out of our wet clothes and ask yer Mam for some hot cocoa.”  
. . . . . 

The remainder of the afternoon went by without incident. I helped the bairns to colour their pictures for Father Christmas. Kitty finally napped, unfortunately this happened in my arms, so I had no choice but to hold whispered conversations for two hours while she slept. 

By 5pm I was starving and the kids had become slightly unruly. 

I yelled for Jenny. “When do ye think we might be eating Janet? The bairns are hungry, and so am I.”

“Yeh can be helpful and set the table for me! Dinner will be ready soon!” She called back.

“Come Jamie, Maggie, let’s go and set the table.” I shooed them into the dining room, and supervised as they clumsily set out plates and silverware. Once they had finished they took their seats at the table, and I put Kitty into her high chair. 

“While we wait lets play a game, it’s called ‘Let’s Name Uncle Jamie’s New House’” I hoped this would be enough to distract them, and at the same give me inspiration. 

Young Jamie was the first to pipe up. “How about Snow Sparkle.” It was suddenly evident that I’d forgotten I was talking to children under the age of six. 

I chuckled. “That’s an interesting idea, any others?”

Every nonsensical name under the sun had been suggested. Young Jamie had an unstoppable case of the giggles after suggesting a name pertaining to human waste. He didn’t stop until his Mother entered the room.

“What is God’s name is going on in here Jamie? I thought ye were setting the table.” She cast a scrutinising eye over the table we had laid. 

“Jamie and Maggie have finished the table Janet.” I said putting on my most solemn look. “We were just discussing names for my house.”

“I see.” She wandered out to the kitchen, and came back a short moment later, her arms laden with pork and apples, roasted potatoes and my favourite brown sugar glazed carrots. “How about Fir Lodge? Ye’ve all those pretty fir trees about, and it willna offend others if ye dinna include Fraser in the name.”

I chose to ignore her subtle dig at Claire. I thought the name she had suggested was quite perfect actually. “I like that very much Jenny, Fir Lodge it is.”

I sensed that Jenny was about to continue her assault of the homes previous owner, so I was thankful that Ian chose this moment to walk in the door.

“Da!!!” The children yelled, hugging Ian tightly around the middle. “We’ve made snow angels with Uncle, and made a drawing for Father Christmas, and Uncle’s house is called Fir Lodge, and Uncle says he’s going to read us a bedtime story.”

“It sounds like ye’ve been very busy.” He cast twinkling eyes in my direction, clearly amused at the fact that I was still living after enduring all of these activities with three small children.

Jenny clapped, “All right ye lot, go wash up, dinner is ready.”  
. . . . . . .

 

I was so full, I’d eaten far too much. The children had fallen silent at the table clearly feeling the same way. The meal had been delicious, there was no more room for third or fourth helpings, and the silence attested to everyone’s contentment. 

The reverie was broken by Jenny as she left to get the children bathed and into pyjamas. Ian and I were left to do the dishes.

Ian was in a conversational mood as we cleaned the dishes, “It’s nice to have ye about Jamie, the bairns like spending time with their Uncle.”

“It’s good of ye lot to have me, it’s been a little lonely being by myself at times. And your rabble of bairns certainly keep me preoccupied, and I do love them so.” I smiled as I said this, I really was very fond of my nieces and nephew. 

“I’m glad to hear it. I hope, then, that you’ll have room to love another niece or nephew.”

I shot him a look. “Ye aren’t saying? Jenny is pregnant again?”

“She is, she’ll be two months along next week.” Ian was beaming, elated that he could share the news with someone else.

“Congratulations to ye both!” I held up my half empty wine glass. “Sláinte.”  
I drained the glass, unsure what to say next. 

“Jamie, I ken what happened with ye, Murtagh told me.” Ian shifted a little uncomfortably. “It will happen for ye too, when the time is right.”

“I know.” I said simply.

I heard a clattering down the hallway, and when I looked down I saw Kitty at my feet bouncing, she was waiting to be picked up. I lifted her up, kissing her rosy little cheeks. “Is it story time then wee’un?” I asked her even though I knew it wouldn’t garner a response.  
I clapped Ian on the back, thanked him, and carried Kitty with me into the sitting room to sit before the fire.

We settled into the large armchair, and before long I had Young Jamie and Maggie on my lap as well.

“Will ye read this book to us Uncle?” Young Jamie held up a book.

“Of course I will, make yerselves comfortable.” Maggie moved to lay on a cushion on the floor in front of the fire, young Jamie nestled back onto me, and Kitty remained tucked into the crook of my arm. 

I began to read. “A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. Stave 1: Marley’s Ghost. Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register.....”  
Two chapters in and I was yawning, I looked to Maggie who was asleep under her dressing gown, Jamie and Kitty were both asleep on me. I leant my head back, closing my eyes, feeling the steady breathing of the bairns.  
Somewhere in the distance I could hear Jenny placing presents under the tree, and setting out cookies for Father Christmas. I’d been lightly dozing when I felt her putting a blanket over us. I opened my eyes to look at her and thanked her wordlessly.  
She smiled at me, and went to kiss each of the bairns, and then bent over to kiss my forehead. “Good night Jamie.” 

. . . . . .


	12. Chapter 10: Life Or Something Like It (Part 2)

Chapter 10: Life or Something Like It (Part 2)

 

Life went on much in the same way it had, with only two major exceptions; Jamie was nowhere to be seen, and I was no longer the same person I had been.

 

I continued to work, I’d tried to quit, but Joe had insisted that helping others to heal would simultaneously aid in my own healing. I started sessions with Joe, which was likely unethical in every way, but it provided a fresh outlook on two counts; one as my friend and the other as a mental health professional.

We both came to the conclusion that my best way forward was to write down a memoir of sorts, and to detail my inner most feelings in this memoir so that I could reflect on how I had come to this point. 

 

After our disastrous encounter, I didn’t try to contact Jamie for a month. I wanted him to have time to cool down, and to maybe hate me a little less.

 

As I began to feel better and processed all that had happened, I started making copies of all I had written down, I wanted Jamie to see it; everything. I had detailed as much of my childhood as I could remember, including the time I had spent with him. I wrote about the circumstances surrounding my parents death; how it had thrust adulthood upon me and forced me into a shell of sorts. What I had not expected was the catharsis that I felt when I wrote of Frank, it was like unleashing a dark blight that lived in the crevices of my past. Frank had been one of my last entries, because up until I’d met Jamie (again) nothing of much note had happened in my life, it had been blissfully simple and quiet. _But I wanted noise, Jamie’s noise, chaos if that is what happened._

 

In late November I began to send my writings in parts, hoping that he would respond to them, or at least let me know he was receiving them. I sent one letter a week. 

 

Christmas was particularly lonely, but I tried my best to keep my spirits high. 

Thankfully my patients kept me busy, Louise was doing well, she had a home of her very own that she was leasing, and was only a couple of months away from meeting her baby. Helping Louise was what made the most difference to my mindset, I no longer felt envious of her pregnancy, I felt immense joy for her. This released the internal guilt I had been feeling about whether or not I had done the right thing; having my procedure.

 

In a session I had with Joe in the middle of January we drove to my parents old house in Broch Mordha. 

As we drove up the impressive driveway I could see how much it had changed, the gardens were breath taking; even covered in snow, everything had been trimmed to perfection, and the house was picturesque, more beautiful than I could ever have imagined; white washed with bay windows and an expansive deck.

As we stepped out of the car, Joe took my hand. 

 

“Show me around Lady Jane.”

 

I smiled at him, but I knew it didn’t meet my eyes. 

I was nervous.

I was also grateful, however, that the house seemed deserted. It meant that I wouldn’t have to deal with any encounters of the Jamie kind while I explored. 

 

I took Joe to the back of the house to show him the fence line where I’d played, and my parents herb garden, it made me happy to remember them there digging and planting. 

 

“It’s kind of bizarre,” I said, “being able to replay my childhood goings on as though no time has passed, but then looking around in detail to find that everything has changed. The house doesn’t even look the same, certainly not as I remembered it.”

 

“Of course things have changed, look at you Claire, you are a beautiful and successful woman, your parents would be so proud of you. I’m sure they’d look very fondly upon you spending time here, remembering them and reflecting on your time together.” Joe held both of my hands in his as he said this.

 

“It’s certainly beautiful now.” I avoided his compliment, but I secretly hoped what he said was true. “Very peaceful indeed, do you feel like being nosy with me? I want to see what the interior looks like.” I genuinely meant it, I wanted to see what it looked like. 

 

As I took the steps onto the porch I noticed the small green firs in grey pots on either side of the door, and the antique white umbrella stand that stood next to the cushioned bench. The bay window that looked out on the porch revealed the expansive entryway and lounge room, it had no furniture in it, I knew what used to furnish this room, but it no longer fit the image. The walls were a soft grey, a couple of pieces of artwork hung on them. The fireplace had been restored and was quite the sight to behold. The floors were different too, sanded and lighter in colour.

 

I began to wonder what the house would look like with furniture in it. A mirror above the mantel, a big plush rug, an ottoman with a stack of books....

 

“You’re furnishing it in your mind, aren’t you Jane?” He chuckled. 

 

He knew me so well. “It’s a shame that it’s sitting here empty.”

 

“You do happen to know the owner, perhaps it’s time you reached out with more than your letters.” 

 

“I don’t want to until he’s got the whole story. And speaking of that, can we swing past a post box on the way home? I’ve got the last part of my ‘memoir’, so to speak, to send to him.”

The last piece I had left to send was the part of my life that involved Jamie’s reappearance. I had also included a letter, apologising for how I had behaved and begging his forgiveness.

I’d only sent something 3 days ago, but I needed to divest myself of everything and wait, the ball would now remain in his court for a while. At least until he reappeared.

 

“We’ll stop by a post box, come on Lady Jane, it’s time to go.”

. . . . . .

 

Saturday morning dawned bright. I showered, and made my way to get coffee and breakfast, I new ritual I’d adopted.

As I ate I read the paper, made notes on the clients I would see in the coming week and made a list of the things I needed to get done before the weekend was through. 

I strolled back, taking my time, mainly because my stomach was so full that a leisurely pace was about all I could manage. I walked past Jamie’s building, looking up at the window to his apartment, I hoped he’d be back soon. 

. . . . . .

 

I finished work early on Monday afternoon. I drove my new car home, wearing my new and very comfortable cream suit, with my newly purchased brown leather briefcase on the passenger seat. 

I felt content for the first time in a long while, I was quite proud of my personal growth, I’d done a lot of work on myself these last months. 

This feeling of contentment flew out the proverbial window when I noticed Jamie’s car parked in the street.

He’d returned.

Which meant he would be greeted by my latest pieces of mail. I knew his letterbox had been getting emptied, but I had no way to know if he’d been reading anything I’d sent.

I sat in my car and stared for a ridiculously long time, long enough to catch sight of him coming down to meet a mystery brunette, a brunette who was pregnant. They looked happy, he embraced her and she followed him up to his apartment.

 

_Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ he worked fast._

 

I wasn’t sure I had a right to feel any particular way about what I’d seen, I was sure I didn’t have a right to feel jealous, but I did. I dragged myself up to my apartment, threw my jacket onto my dining table and undid the top button of my blouse. I sank into my armchair and poured myself a glass of wine. I wasn’t hungry in the slightest, which was a dangerous combination once I’d made it to my third glass of wine. I decided somewhere between my fifth or sixth glass that blaring U2 on my CD player was a good idea. I made it to ‘Sometimes You Can’t Make it on Your Own’ before the dam broke, tears were coming thick and fast. Perhaps this was the way it was supposed to be, maybe I was getting what I deserved, Jamie certainly deserved to be happy.

 

I fell asleep eventually on the armchair, too drunk to move. 

 

I was woken by a pounding on my door. I checked my watch, it was just past midnight.

“I’m coming now” I yelled, “give me a second.”

I opened the door expecting a disgruntled neighbour. It was Jamie. He didn’t wait for an invitation, he walked right past me and into my apartment. He was holding several pieces of paper, he looked tired and dishevelled.

 

“Is this true?” He said, holding up the papers.

 

“Is what true Jamie?” This came out a little more forcefully than I’d meant it to, likely because of what I’d seen this afternoon. 

“I’ve been up for hours reading what ye’ve written to me, and I’ve just gotten to the part about yer ex husband, Frank. Is what you wrote true? He forced ye to move here? He abused ye verbally, and cheated on ye because ye couldn’t have his child?”

 

I swallowed hard. “Yes it’s true”. 

 

“Claire I had no idea how little I knew ye.” He ran his fingers through his hair, “I mean, I get it, we hadn’t known each other long before things went wrong, but Christ, these letters, their detail. Your ex, does he live here?”

 

What a strange question. “No, Jamie, he doesn’t. He lives in Boston.”

 

“Good, otherwise I’d kill him.” 

 

I laughed at this. It felt good, light. Then I remembered his brunette counterpart.

 

“Well I don’t suppose that matters, he isn’t here.” There was a pause, and before I could stop the words, I said “Your girlfriend; the brunette, she’s pregnant.” It wasn’t even a question, more of a statement.

 

“My what?”

 

“Your girlfriend.” I shortened the observation.

 

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” His voice sounded sincere.

 

“Who was the girl visiting you this afternoon?”

 

He smiled, which kind of irritated me. “Ye mean my sister? She was just helping me get some of my stuff moved back in.”

 

I felt like a complete idiot, and searched quickly for a way to change the subject.

“I saw the house, it’s really quite something.”

 

“Ye did?”

 

“It was part of my therapy.”

 

He searched my eyes, before he asked. “And what did ye think?”

 

“The house is exquisite Jamie.”

 

“I’m glad ye think so.” I watched as his guard went up, he probably felt like he was stepping through a mine field, avoiding my triggers like they were land mines.

 

An awkward tension hung in the air longing to be broken, neither of us knew what to say next. 

 

“Well I guess I’ve got my reading to do.” He withdrew a sealed envelope from his back pocket. It was the last one I’d sent. 

I knew it contained the letter I’d written; it was the most honest confession I’d ever compiled in my life.

I remembered the evening I wrote it. 

 

. . . . . .

 

_Dear Jamie,_

 

_I’m not sure where to begin._ Totally cliché.

 

_~~I’m writing to beg your forgiveness~~._

 

_I have behaved so poorly these last few months, and the only way I could think to explain, was to give my life story to you. By now you’ve finished reading what I’ve sent to you._

 

_I hoped in some way it would clarify why I behaved as I did. Frank taught me to place a distrust in the species of men when it came to romantic relationships. My Uncle Lamb taught me that nowhere needed to be permanent. The deaths of my parents taught me that life could be fickle, and sometimes difficult choices need to be made to live the life you see fit._

 

_~~The baby~~ _

 

_When I discovered my pregnancy my natural inclination was to run, but I didn’t, and at the time I didn’t understand why._

_But I know now it was you, some part of me needed to be close to you, to where you were._

 

_I am pleading with you to understand why I chose to end the pregnancy. How could I know you would remain? Everything with us was so new, and I didn’t want to bring a baby into uncertain territory. I admit this also had to do with my feelings about your real estate purchase, but ultimately I did it because the situation didn’t feel right._

 

_I want to have a child... When it is right. When it is made in love, not in lust, and not on the first night you sleep together._

_To be honest I didn’t even know I could have children, so I never considered that these would even be choices I had, but I wasn’t going to use that as an excuse to have a baby on a whim._

 

_I would consider it a great honour if you would forgive this foolish lass, and if I’m not being too bold; to, at the very least, be my friend._

 

_I’ve written a list of what I consider to be my personal faults so that you have some forewarning:_

 

_-Stubborn._ (A gross understatement)

_-Overly sensitive when it comes to my past, I am working on this._

_-Terrible at sharing my feelings and in general can be a very closed book, also working on this._

_-I’m not very fond of surprises._ (Clearly)

_-I don’t share Chinese food very well, so ordering extra spring rolls is always a given._ (Throwing this in was a bit of a gamble, he may not be in the mood for jokes.)

_-Independent, to my detriment sometimes._

 

_In closing I wanted to tell you how difficult it has been to not have you in my life, in such a short space of time you had come to mean so much. You still do mean so much. My greatest wish would be to continue to explore what I felt was there between us. I am so very sorry that I ever made you feel as though you were the problem, you have been through too much already in your life, and I acknowledge how hard I made things._

 

_I hope one day you'll forgive me._

 

_~~Yours Sincerely,~~ _

 

_~~Best,~~ _

 

_Love,_

 

_Claire. ~~X~~_

 

. . . . . . 

 

He cleared his throat. “I’ll just be off then.”

 

I shook away my glazed expression. “Maybe I’ll see you soon.” Hopefulness filled my soul, and spread through my veins like a drug.

 

He didn’t respond as he turned to go, he just gave a backwards wave.

 


	13. Chapter 11: The Last Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr; camilladiconza

Chapter 11: The Last Letter

Holy God. What was that wave? I’d wanted to leave quickly, the proximity to her had started to make me feel befuddled. Not a single iota of what my body or mind was doing made sense to me when I was near her. I was simply a man, helpless to her gravitational pull, with no earthy way for my feet to find the ground.

Once I was back in my apartment, I fell onto my couch, surrounded by many, many pieces of paper, everything Claire had sent me was strewn about the place. I wanted to push through, finish reading it all before morning.

I was still clutching the last envelope, but before I ventured to read it I needed coffee. As the magical, life giving fluid dripped from the coffee machine, I thought about everything I’d learned about Claire so far, her attention to detail was astounding, I considered her honesty remarkably brave. She had no way to know how I would feel about her candour, but she’d written it anyway. 

The envelope had my address penned on it in her neat scrawl, and on the reverse side it said ‘The Last One.’

I opened it, and a smaller envelope fell out ‘For you to read when you’ve finished everything else.’

I had no warning, no knowledge of how difficult this excerpt would be. She wrote of our moment at her parents home, how she wanted to re-connect with me; but didn’t know how to after running away. She explained spending the following two weeks plagued by nightmares of how her parents had died. 

I had a lump in my throat that increased with size as I read about her trip to Glasgow. My hand shook as she recounted the day she had the abortion, the paper gown she wore, the white walls of the tiny medical room. I felt guilt and shame that she had been there on her own, but I acknowledged that she saw my previous offer to help her as I an assumption that she would keep the baby, she felt she had no other choice but to keep me uninvolved.  
My heart was sore, and I wasn’t sure I could read anymore. I felt as though her words were testing me, daring me to cut her out with her brutal truths. She wanted to know if I could handle it.

Claire was graphic.  
‘I laid on my back in the uncomfortable gown, legs in stirrups, staring at the ceiling until the doctor entered the room. I closed my eyes, and held Jamie’s hand in spirit. I felt a strange pressure as the baby was removed, and nothing I thought of could stem the tears now flowing down my face, when it was over I had a feeling of being so empty that I was weightless. I wasn’t sure if I would ever be me again.’

At this I cried out. I couldn’t handle it. I stood up, but felt weak at the knees, and fell to the ground instead.  
I needed to calm the roaring and wounded beast within. So I started to say a blessing I’d recited when my mother died.

‘Deep peace of the running wave to you,  
Deep peace of the flowing air to you,  
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you,  
Deep peace of the shining stars to you,  
Deep peace of the Son of Peace to you.  
May the road rise to meet you;  
May the wind be always at your back;  
May the sun shine warm upon your face;  
May the rains fall softly upon your fields.  
Until we meet again,  
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.’

I breathed in a steady rhythm, feeling better as I focused my energy on slowing my heart rate.  
I was eventually collected enough to read her last note. After reading it half way, I realised I didn’t need to read further.  
She needed me, and I needed her.  
But the truth was, we had work to do, and who knows where it could go. We had so much to learn about each other, granted I knew a lot more about her now; I knew her past at least. But I wanted to know her future, to be a part of it, I just wasn’t sure in what capacity.

My caffeine buzz and a burst of adrenaline propelled me off the ground.  
I knew where I had to be, and without considering the time, I re-traced my steps. 

It was raining, the frigidly cold drops saturated me almost instantly, but I didn’t care. I ran across the street, and started ascending the stairs of Claire’s apartment building, my shoes making a squelching sound with each step I took. I knocked loudly on the door and waited. I ignored the discomfort I was feeling due to my soaked clothing, and focussed on willing Claire to the door. 

She didn’t yell out this time, but I heard her coming towards the door before finally opening it. 

When she saw me no words passed between us, she simply jumped into my arms without a care about my wet form.  
I couldn’t feel her tears, but I knew she was crying, she shook ever so slightly now and again. 

We came apart, both of us shivering. 

“Come in, I’ll put your clothes in the dryer and you can have a shower.” She led me to her bathroom and handed me a fresh towel. “Throw your clothes out to me.”

I shut the bathroom door behind me, undressed hurriedly and opened the door a fraction to give my clothes to her. 

Her bathroom was a treasure trove holding every feminine product known to mankind.  
Everything smelled so good, floral and probably likely to attract cute woodland creatures. 

When I’d finished my shower, I wrapped the towel around my waist and went in search of Claire. I found her in the kitchen, she’d changed into tight fitting cotton pyjamas and had on a regal looking robe, she was busying herself making tea.

The quiet prevailed for a while longer.

“Thank ye Sa-, Claire, for writing to me. I didna realise what an undertaking it would be to read the whole thing in a night, I ken it must have been hard for ye.”

“It was.” She breathed the words. “But I fucked up, and I thought it might help you forgive me a little.”

“I’d forgiven ye before I even read anything ye wrote.”

Smiling and passing me a mug of tea she said, “You have no idea how good it is to hear that.” She stepped towards me, and I stiffened without meaning to. Clearly taking this as my rejecting her, she halted and looked away. “But I understand that we need time, and that you have to be able to trust me again.”

I reached down to cup her chin, directing her face so that she was looking up at me. I placed a gentle kiss on her nose. “I’m sorry mo nighean donn. I didna mean to; I dinna know how to do this starting over thing, when what I desperately want is to go back to where we were before I bought the house.”

“It’s ok Jamie.” She whispered.

I couldn’t hold back. I pressed my lips to hers, I felt her sigh. None of the electricity had disappeared, my desire for her was more desperate than it had been before.  
She opened her mouth in wanting, as I kissed the nape of her neck and muttered between kisses “I have to tell you something Claire.”

“Mmmmm, what is it Jamie?” Her hands were now around my neck.

I stopped my barrage of kisses, and lifted her off her feet to wrap her legs around me. “I think I’m in love with you.”  
She looked stunned by my admission, I worried that perhaps I’d blurted that out a little too soon, her face deadpan she said “I guess it’s good that I know I’m in love with you then.”

This woman had never been more appealing to me than she was right now, I carried her to the couch, keeping her in my lap we kissed like teenagers, clothes were being tugged at, skin was fire, and breathing was ragged.

At some point things slowed, we were both exhausted. Somehow self control had prevailed; her clothes and my towel remained in tact. I laid down on the couch and she nestled in on top of me. I whispered Gaelic words to her, and fell asleep patting her hair.  
. . . . . . 

I opened my eyes to sunlight streaming in the window, unfortunately it wasn’t sunlight of the early morning kind, which meant I’d no doubt missed my 9:30 meeting, and was probably likely to miss my 10:30 meeting too. Claire was still sleeping in the crook of my arm. She stirred when I kissed her head.

“Claire, I think we’re late. As in I think it’s almost midday kind of late.”

I could hear groaning somewhere beneath her hair. “It’s lucky that I don’t have my first client until 1pm then, why do you think I didn’t have an alarm set?” 

“I should probably have brought my phone, or my iPad, or something that would help me get up in time.” At this I started absentmindedly looking around for my watch.

“Lucky for some; they have people working for them, I guess it’s good to be a construction mogul sometimes.”  
I chuckled, if only she knew how useless my assistant could be if she didn’t have very specific directions.

“I’ve got to make a call to Murtagh, can I borrow yer phone?”

She pointed to the direction of her phone, “It’s somewhere over there, can you tell me what the time is?” 

It wasn’t until I got up that I realised how cold it was, I wrapped the trusty towel around myself. “It’s 10:45 Sa-, Claire. Just give me a minute, I’m just going to make this call.”

She forced herself up, I hoped that she was heading to the dryer to get my clothes. 

I rang Murtagh twice before he finally answered.

“Jamie! Where are ye? I’ve been calling ye all morning!” He was yelling down the phone, almost deafening me.

“Relax, I’m fine, I’m with Claire. I was calling to check that ye made it to the meetings this morning, will ye apologise for me?”

“I’m at a meeting right now, I’ve already made yer excuses. Don’t rush in laddie, we’ll speak soon.” Murtagh hung up.  
I turned around to find my clothes in a neat pile on the kitchen counter.  
I could hear Claire shuffling about in what I assumed was her room, I stayed at the door not wanting to intrude.

“You can come in Jamie.” I hadn’t expected her to be naked. I took a sharp intake of breath. All of those moments I’d been away from her picturing her beautiful naked form, here she was. Her milky skin looked almost transparent in the sunlight, her slender frame made her pulse points obvious, and without touching her I could knew the pattern of their beat. She didn’t meet my gaze as I entered the room, but I knew her whiskey eyes would be gleaming with their hidden gold flecks. She was majestic in every sense of the word, seeing her like this made me want to bend the knee and swear enslavement to her forever despite all that had happened between us.

“Ye are beautiful.” I whispered as I approached her. “Can I touch ye Claire?”  
Her body gave me all the response I needed. She melted into me, kissing me deeply, every thrust of her tongue sent me further over the edge. I ran my fingers gently over her supple breasts. I needed her warmth, to reacquaint myself with it, but I knew where it was going, and we weren’t ready to tackle that hurdle yet, that much I knew. I forced myself to pull away.  
“Claire, I canna, not yet. Let’s take it slowly, get to know each other.” I felt guilty for sending such mixed messages. I watched her face carefully, to be sure that I caught whatever emotion crossed it, but whatever it was; it didn’t betray her. 

She untangled herself from me. “I’m going to take a shower now Jamie, join me if you’d like.” I couldn’t be certain, but I felt as though she was trying to show me her ability to be patient, to give me space. I was grateful for it. 

“Ye shower, I’ll cook something for breakfast.” I paused, unsure whether or not to say the next words. I uttered them in such a small voice I wasn’t sure she would hear, “Tha thu nam banrigh.”

She smiled. “Should I know what that means?”

“No Sa-, Claire, but one day ye will. And ye’ll understand why I say them to ye.”

“I think I can live with that Jamie Fraser.”


	14. Chapter 12: A Most Murtagh Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the small delay, I'm sure I'm not alone in saying that I'm struggling with the latest season of Outlander and therefore am going through phases where I lack inspiration. My heart and soul will always be with this series though.  
> I’ve changed my username here and on Tumblr to @scarletwritingwolf

Chapter 12: A Most Murtagh Evening

 

Memories are a most remarkable thing, but rarely are they perfect. The one thing I could be certain about; was that my memory was categorically flawed when it came to Jamie Fraser. I knew this to be true because each time I saw him; it was as though I was seeing him for the first time. Red hair gleaming, his wickedly beautiful smile displaying his perfectly straight, pearly white teeth, the expression on his face; friendly and trusting. For lack of better words, he took my breath away, and I relished in the thought that there would always be something new to learn about him, because my memories never allowed me to remember.

 

He was coming towards me, looking cool and casual, dressed immaculately in a navy blue suit that was clearly designer. He smiled when he caught sight of me, and took faster and greater strides to reach me sooner.

 

“Good evening Jamie” I said cheekily. “You, sir, are a little late.” I tapped my watch jokingly.

 

“I’m sorry, I feel terrible. My meeting ran late, and I couldna shake Murtagh and his questions about what I was doing tonight. I really am verra sorry.”

 

“It’s ok Jamie, really.” I stroked his cheek with my hand, my eyes lingering on his only for a moment. “Come on, lets go in, I’m starving.” Taking his hand I led him into the pub where he had suggested we meet.

 

I really wasn’t sure why I led him in, because it was quite clear from the moment we entered that he was very familiar with this particular place. Every staff member greeted him, and even some of the patrons.

I quizzed him, “Is there a reason why everyone seems to know you?”

 

“Yes, as a matter of fact there is, I own this place. I thought perhaps ye’d like to see it. The food here is verra good.”

 

“You are full of surprises. I love that you brought me here. I only have one question; is there at least a juke box?”

 

“Ye willna be disappointed my lady, the juke box is over in that corner there.” He pointed to a modern little box obscured by a group of rowdy Scottish men who appeared to be having some sort of a bucks night.

 

We ventured towards the bar, where Jamie ordered us two glasses of whiskey.

“What do ye want to eat? I can have them make anything ye like.”

 

I shrugged. “I’m happy to choose off the menu Jamie, I don’t need special treatment.” He promptly gave me a menu to peruse.

 

Jamie looked to the bartender. “Whichever drink the lady wants she gets, ok Duncan? Claire I just need to go and speak to the manager, while I’m gone choose a table we can sit at if that’s what ye’d like.”

 

I waved him away. The menu was quite extensive for a pub, and I was pleasantly surprised to find my favourite dish; pork medallions with mashed potato and a creamy mushroom sauce.

I ordered an espresso martini, and I watched Duncan make extravagant movements as he created it.

“Here ye are marm, enjoy. Will there be anything else?” Duncan asked.

 

“I’m not sure.” I admitted, I had no idea what Jamie would want, another whiskey?

“Do you know what Mr Fraser’s favourite drink is Duncan? A whiskey?”

 

“Mr Fraser is partial to his whiskey marm, but he enjoys his beer just as much, he is most fond of Fyne Ales Jarl.”

 

“Excellent, I’ll have one of those as well please.”

 

Jamie returned a short time later, his face alight.

 

“Well what is it then Mr Fraser?”

 

He looked at me with raised eyebrows and an innocent expression, waiting for me to elaborate.

 

“Nothing at all Miss Beauchamp, can a man not have secret men’s business.”

 

I laughed, and I felt myself getting more comfortable in my surroundings with each exchange we had. I removed my jacket as we began to discuss the different types of alcohol he had in the pub, and how he had come to own the pub itself. After twenty minutes I realised that the patrons of the pub had gone silent, and all were watching one of the male staff members wave his arms about.

 

He began to speak in a half yell. “Sorry ladies and gents, we’re closing early tonight, our kitchen is already closed, we are just havin’ some staffing issues. We’ll be shuttin’ shop in half an hour.”

 

I glared at Jamie, he returned a wide eyed look and shrugged. I suspected he had something to do with this sudden closure, surprisingly none of the people in the pub seemed irritated with this announcement. There were two other members of staff making individual apologies to each guest of the pub, and they appeared to be handing them something with each apology.

 

“So what do ye want to eat?” He asked me coolly.

 

“Didn’t that gentleman just say that the kitchen was closed?” I tested him.

 

“He did didn’t he? I suppose it’s good that I own this place then. Ye’ll have time to order and get your meal Sassenach.”

 

My heart was pounding out of my chest, he’d just called me Sassenach. I’d heard him start to call me the peculiar nickname multiple times since we’d been reunited, but he’d been good at catching himself before actually saying it.

 

“I’m sorry Claire, I didna mean to call ye that. I’ve been trying to forget it was ever something I called ye. Please dinna be mad.” His eyes were pleading.

 

“I’m not mad at all, it’s just strange to hear the name again after all this time. Please don’t apologise.” I kissed his cheek, trying to ease his tension. I wanted to change the subject quickly. “Any chance of some decent music?”

 

“Anything for my beautiful guest, but we may have to wait for a while before we hear our choices, the juke box has been banked up with this dance music garbage since those men from the stag party were over there.”

 

“I don’t mind, I’m perfectly fine with a little waiting, as long as it’s for something good.” I winked at him.

 

He strode over to the juke box, I watched him the entire time, admiring him. I knew I wasn’t the only one who had eyes on him, but I was content with knowing that each time he looked up his eyes connected only with mine.

 

“I feel like I’ve made some good solid music choices on yer behalf. Perhaps another drink?”

 

I had another two espresso martini’s, Jamie seemed to drink his beers as though they were water. I was beginning to feel light headed, I knew I needed food before the effects of the alcohol got worse. I looked about to realise that the pub had emptied at last.

 

“So lassie, would you like to dance?” Jamie stood above me holding out a hand for me to accept.

 

As I took his hand and he led me to the dance floor I heard the voice of Kenny Rogers on the juke box, his song ‘Islands in the Stream’ was playing. I stifled a laugh. “A favourite song of yours Mr Fraser?”

 

“Weel sort of.” He took me in his arms, he was warm, and the buzz of the alcohol seemed to draw me closer to him; I rested my cheek on his chest. I felt the steady movements of his breathing as he swayed gently. “Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton sang this song together at a show they put together to play for us lads in the army. I ken it’s an old song, but I heard it for the first time that day, and it always stayed with me.” I wondered how much else of his time in the army had stayed with him, I vowed to spend my life finding out.

_Islands in the stream, that is what we are,_

_No one in between, how can we be wrong._

“What do ye think Claire? Can ye live with my taste in music?” His question seemed to be silently asking more than it’s words. I was sure he wanted to ask if I had a desire to be around him long term.

 

“I am a big fan of Dolly Parton, so I think we’ll get along just fine Jamie.” I hoped that the reassuring smile I paired with my words would help to answer his veiled question. It had never been a question for me, there wasn’t any way for me to live my life without him. We hadn’t discussed our time apart much, it was too painful for us both to talk about just yet, but I wanted to.

_We start and end as one, in love forever,_

_We can ride it together, ah-ah,_

_Makin’ love with each other, ah-ah,_

We danced our way through Frank Sinatra, U2 and a little Coldplay. He had most definitely chosen music to ensure that I stayed in his arms, but I had absolutely no problem with this.

I noticed when the music on the juke box came to an end, but I wasn’t sure that Jamie had, he continued swaying, holding me to him as though he was afraid to let go. I gently nudged him.

“Come Jamie, let’s get something to eat, I’m famished.”

 

He seemed to come out of a trance, and looked at me with such adoration it almost tore me in two. This gentle, giant soul wanted me, and I knew I could never let him down again.

 

We sat at the nearest table, Duncan came bustling over with more drinks, while Jamie disappeared into the kitchen with our food orders. As Duncan fussed over pouring drinks, I wondered what Jamie had in mind for the rest of the evening, and for that matter where we stood going forward. The fact that I was even asking myself the latter was a testament to how much had changed in me since I met him, after Frank I had become a strong, educated woman, and at times with Jamie I felt vulnerable, concerned that I would allow myself to go back to a place where I was so undermined by my own feelings. My feelings for Jamie were so intense they terrified me.

I heard him approaching first, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, worried that he would read my expression.

 

“Are you ok Claire? You look...” He trailed off, clearing trying to decide how I looked.

 

“I’m fine Jamie, just hungry, that’s all.” I took his hand, drawing lines over his prominent veins with my thumb. I had been about to ask him what his plans were for the remainder of the evening, when his head suddenly snapped up to look at the door. It hadn’t been locked, the closed sign was most definitely visible, but the man walking in didn’t seem to care much.

 

“Ah there ye are lad.” The man in question clearly knew Jamie.

 

“Here I am, Murtagh. What can I do for ye?” His tone sounded playful, but his stance gave him away, he was concerned about this Murtagh being here with us, or more so, with me.

 

“I just wanted te see this lassie for myshelf.” He slurred the last words, obviously intoxicated.

 

Jamie not letting his good manners slip said “Claire this is my Godfather Murtagh, sometimes I just call him Uncle. Murtagh this is Claire.”

 

“A pleashure to meet ye Claire. Are ye havin’ a good time with young Jamie here?” As he asked, his eyes pierced mine. His purpose was quite evident; that was to interrogate me.

 

“I am, thank you.” I responded politely, being very careful to keep my tone light.

 

Jamie kept our fingers interlocked, wanting to keep a protective hold, but he was feigning a casual demeanour as he sat back in his chair. He was waiting, I just wasn’t sure what for.

 

Murtagh continued. “I’ve known Jamie since he was a small lad ye ken, and I would do anythin’ for him. I want him te be happy, I willna ever begrudge him tha’, but I want ye te understand that if ye hurt him again ye will be sorry.”

 

“That’s enough Murtagh. Ye’ve had too much to drink man, go home. I dinna need yer protecting.” Jamie was doing his very best to conceal the snarl in his voice.

“Claire isna out to hurt me.”

 

“Aye sometimes I think ye do lad.”

 

I wasn’t sure what to say, I could feel tears welling, but I forced them to abate. Jamie’s grip on my fingers tightened.

 

“Ye’ve talked about what she did te ye have ye then Jamie? What it did te ye?” Murtagh was plainly on some sort of crusade.

 

“We’ve settled it Murtagh, now that’s enough.” He got up, taking his Godfather by the arm, and dragged him towards the door. “Ye need to leave, we will talk in the mornin’.”

 

Jamie closed the door, pacing next to it, running his fingers through his hair. I got up to go towards him.

 

“I’m so sorry Sassenach, I didna mean for that to happen. He’s drunk, and too focussed on my life. He willna disturb us again.” He looked truly remorseful.

 

“It’s ok Jamie, but I think I’m just going to go home, I’m exhausted and it might be best that you see your Godfather home safely.” I wanted time to be alone for a little while, so I could get over the sting of Murtagh’s words. I ran my hand across Jamie’s cheek reassuring him. “We should talk tomorrow Jamie, I thought perhaps we might talk properly about our time apart, so we might put it to bed so to speak.”

 

Jamie hesitated, I knew he wasn’t sure what to do. “Ye are a good woman Claire, I dinna want ye to be worried about what he’s said, he’s just a silly old coot.” He bent to kiss me. “I’ll come to get you tomorrow, we can talk when you feel like it. But I want ye to understand that I’ve put it to bed already, there isn’t a need for ye to feel guilt.”

 

As usual it was as though he could understand what I felt without my saying so.

 

“I’ve been thinking that I’d like ye to meet my sister and her family, if ye want to.”

 

“I’d like that Jamie, but warn me if I have more scorn to look forward to won’t you? Just so I know to pack my armour.” I grabbed his tie and kissed him back.


	15. Chapter 13: Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I know there has been some confusion on my Tumblr, and likely here too, about my change of username (now @scarletwritingwolf, previously @camilladiconza). It means so much to me that you have stuck by me and this story, it means everything.   
> I hope the start to your 2019 has been wonderful.   
> Lots of love, Cam (or as I was once known; Wolfie) x

Chapter 13: Revelations

 

I’d been out to try ‘spinning’ class with Gail. It was horrendous. In truth I despised exercise, I never understood why people wanted to put themselves through it. My face was the delicate colour of puce, the mark of what exercise did to me, I would never me one of those women who looked as though they never broke sweat, instead I became so red and flustered that it looked as though I was having a medical episode.

Every muscle in my legs was fire, each one getting more angry the further I walked. When I finally made it to my building, I took one look at the stairs and decided I couldn’t possibly walk them, I had no choice but to park my ample bottom on the bench. I fanned myself, spreading myself out on the bench like a starfish in hopes of deterring other people from sitting next to me, but no such luck, I opened my eyes to shoot daggers at the person who had decided to reside in my space. _Dear god._

 

“Jamie. Hello.”

 

He was grinning at me. “Why hello Claire. Ye look positively glowing. What have ye been doing?”

 

“Spinning class if you must know.” I snapped jokingly. I sat up properly, making room for him. I was deeply embarrassed that he was seeing me like this, especially since it looked like he had been out for a run but showed no signs at all of being exhausted. “I don’t know why you people do this exercise thing.”

 

Laughing he said “Exercise isna for everyone. Come on Sassenach, ye can come to my apartment, I’ve got a lift in my building, so no need to worry about the stairs.”

 

“But how did you know that’s what I was doing down here? I might be here on purpose.”

 

“Trust me I ken how hard stairs can be to walk when yer legs are refusing to do anything but turn to jelly.” He was being so gentlemanly and trying not to laugh at me too often.

 

“Do ye need me to carry ye?”

 

“I’m sure I can manage Jamie.” I stood up, wobbling on my legs.

 

“Piggy back then?”

 

I looked at him with a helpless expression. “Well ok then.” He knelt down, and I grabbed hold of his shoulders. He lifted me as though I weighed absolutely nothing. I enjoyed being so close to him, and I knew he would secretly be revelling in the opportunity to grab my arse, which he did every now and again just to ensure that I wasn’t slipping.

 

In the elevator he put me down gently. He took my hand, making sure that I was steady. I smiled genially at him. We wer silent, I could feel the presence of our individual lust, waiting for permission to unveil itself.

 

Once we were in his apartment he led me to his bedroom, guiding me onto his bed and promptly opening a window, I was grateful to be horizontal, and the breeze was cool on my skin. He removed his shirt, and laid himself down beside me.

 

I’d closed my eyes, I was contemplating whether or not to speak, we’d agreed the other night to have a conversation about our time apart.

 

“Sassenach?”

 

“Mhmmm.”

 

Jamie turned on his side to face me, using his elbow to prop himself up.

He hesitated “Are ye ok?”

 

“I’m ok Jamie, I was just thinking about what I said the other night, that I wanted to talk with you about our time apart. I just don’t really know where to begin.”

 

“You said so much in yer letters Claire, why don’t ye let me tell ye what I was doing during our time apart? If that’s easier?” He pulled me closer to him, his lips met mine, he kissed me so passionately I felt as though I might melt into him. His tongue entered my mouth every now and again, exploring.

 

“I meditated a lot at the house. That helped a lot, it really forced me to come to a place of peace about everything that happened...” His next words were barely audible. “With the bairn.” He rested his hand so tenderly on my stomach, his eyes were hooded with emotion.

“I spoke to Murtagh some, and a little to Jenny, but mostly I kept to myself. Everything was a blur without ye, as though I wasna really existing; I was a ghost of myself. When I saw ye on the street that night swollen with our child I wanted to fix everything, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Ye have to understand that some of the most positive experiences in my life involve children and the idea that I would one day have my own; when I became an Uncle to Jenny’s children, when I almost died in Iraq I was taken in by a villager, and despite how little they had, her children were happy and compassionate, doting on me. Being around them made my desire to have children of my own much stronger, to make a family.” He paused, watching me for my reaction. My hand rested on his heart, our eyes meeting, I wanted nothing more than to plunge headlong into his soul and heal the hurt I’d caused.

“I’ve told ye this before, but I dinna want ye to feel guilt, it’s important to me that ye don’t. I’m ok, Sassenach, I promise. But I want ye to understand that I will spend my whole life, if need be, trying to get to a place where everything is right with us, so that I can have a child or children with ye. I want to be there for every moment, to watch yer body change. I’ve spent many a night thinking of how bonny ye looked pregnant. I dinna want to scare you, I’m just telling ye the truth. I’ll be ready if and when ye are ready.”

 

His hand had been making circular movements on my stomach. “I promise we will Jamie, when the time is right.” In truth I wanted him to myself for some time, and while his admission didn’t frighten me; I was distantly aware of the people pleaser in me who might concede before being ready. I decided to continue to pursue my plight of getting to know him better. “Will you tell me about how you were injured in Iraq, the scars on your back are they from then?”

 

“Yes, they make me feel self-conscious.” He shifted slightly, his body telling me the truth of his words. Slowly he started telling me the story, and how it eventually culminated in his rescue, recovery and withdrawal from the army.

When he’d finished I wanted to hug him, to take him into me, to shield him.

 

“Your scars are a part of who you are, I personally find every inch of you very sexy, scars included.”

 

He smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“I love you James Fraser.”

I kissed his cheek, his nose, and then his ear lobe and neck.

He responded immediately, rolling on top of me straddling me under the weight of his toned physique. Our mouths joined with such force our teeth knocked a few times. I surrendered to him completely, his scent was intoxicating; earthy and inviting.

 

I wanted him inside of me. How would it be to have him again?

 

He grabbed the soft, malleable skin of my buttocks as we kissed.

“Yer skin is so soft mo nighean donn. I want to wrap myself in it. And this arse, this arse makes me want to terrible things to ye.”

He forced my legs apart and began to draw lines of scarless torture, teasing me, a muse for his artistic creation. He touched my inner thighs, the indented curve of my arse, and the one place he refused to touch was the one place where a furious, wet heat was building, longing to escape.

While his one hand was delivering torturous strokes, the other was pulling my shirt up higher, his dexterous fingers removed my front clasp bra in a flash, exposing my breasts to him. He lightly flicked my nipples with his tongue, and in turn taking them between his teeth, biting down on them gently, it caused an unstoppable escape of noise; load moans and half yells of pleasure.

 

“Oh god, Jamie I want you, please?” I pleaded with him to end his assault, to give me what I wanted.

 

“No Sassenach, not yet, I want to hear more of yer noises.”

 

My nipples were a deep red after being ravaged by Jamie’s mouth, and ever so slightly engorged.He sat me up to properly remove my shirt and my bra, tossing them across the room.

 

“Alright Sassenach, one last obstacle in my way; those very tight pants of yers. Do I cut them off of ye?”

 

I smirked and matter of factly eased the skin tight leggings off, Jamie made a deep sound in his throat, that I could have sworn reverberated off the walls, and left a pounding in my eardrums. He took over, pulling the leggings the rest of the way off.

 

Bugger. I’d forgotten my less than sexy underwear.

 

I mumbled an apology “Sorry... the underwear... not sexy at all.”

 

“Ye would be sexy wearing rags Claire. And besides that, I’m more interested removing them.” He bit my lower lip, before moving down to remove my underwear. He did so in a tantalisingly slow fashion, I was fully aware that this was my last shred of protection before he took me again, I clung to this knowledge desperately; like a woman possessed.

 

There would never be any going back, not ever again.

 

He slid them off my ankles, throwing them to the cold ground with such conviction, as though they were somehow guilty of keeping me from him.

 

“Ye are mine Claire. Ye were made for me.” He said through gritted teeth.

As though I had ever been anyone else’s.

 

I groaned in agreement. Knowing that tonight we would burn with each other, for each other.

 

He kissed my inner thighs, and without seeking permission; ran his tongue over my most sacred spot every now and again. I was certain my heart would burst.

 

When he resurfaced, he kissed me softly, medicating the ache he’d left below.

“I want ye, but only if ye’ll have me. And I want us to be safe.”

 

I kissed him back fervently. “It’s ok Jamie, I’m on the pill now.”

 

Without any hesitation he pulled his pants off, I watched in awe as his exquisite naked form readied itself between my legs. I closed my eyes tightly, preparing myself for the ecstasy of the first thrust, preparing to be filled by him. When he entered me it was like an explosion, every one of my senses in overdrive. I held on to him for dear life.

 

“Jamieeeeeeeee.”

 

He thrust harder, as though me calling his name was some kind of a secret code; a code only decipherable by the two of us.

 

I unscrewed my eyes to find his admiring gaze on me. “Ye aren’t leaving me ever again.”

 

“No, never.” I cupped his face in my hands. “Ahhhhhhhhhh. Jamie I’m going to come.” I could feel my body’s imminent release.

 

“Not yet my sweet Sassenach.” He slowed his pace. I could feel his cock throbbing inside me, it made me want more, each time he pulled out it was leaving a trail of the deepest desire.

 

With his slowed pace his shallow breathing become more apparent. “I could do this forever, be lost in ye. Ye are so wet and so tight.” His voice was raspy, lustful.

 

“Then it is your turn to be tortured, if you mean to tease me forever.” I squirmed out from under him, and gestured for him to lay down. I surveyed him carefully, not wanting to make his self conscious, he really was breathtaking. “This, this is the most beautiful cock I have ever seen.” I took it in my hands, and massaged its head, and with my other hand I cupped his weighty balls. He took a sharp intake of breath at this.

 

“Christ, it’s sensitive Claire.” His words told me to have caution, but his body, he thrust his cock further towards me; so I paid no heed.

 

I rubbed his cock harder and faster, just so that I could hear him moan, his moans were garbled, and every now and again he said words in Gaelic that I didn’t understand. The head of his cock had become slick with pre cum. “Stop Claire.” He said in a moment of clarity. “I don’t want to cum, not now.” I gave him a sly smile, and took his cock in my mouth instead. As soon as my lips closed around it, his whole body stiffened, I stayed unmoving for just a moment waiting for his silent approval to continue. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, but didn’t attempt to control my movements.

I swirled my tongue over the sensitive tip of his cock and took him further into my mouth, creating a forceful suction.

“Sassenach.” He moaned in ecstasy. “Mo nighean donn.” He was gently grinding his hips, thrusting further into my mouth every now and again.

I’d been intending to make him cum, but he seemed to hold on forever, I’d begun to massage his balls gently, I knew then that I was almost there, his cock became so hard it was a wonder it didn’t burst, every available vein was pumping blood to his pulsating appendage.

 

Without warning he forced me away, flipped me over, and spreading my legs entered me again, forcefully.

I cried out, but was soon overcome with the pleasure of being fucked right into oblivion.

Every thrust forced a rolling wave from deep within, his cock seemed to be rubbing away at a secret spot within me, and I desperately sought release.

“Cum for me Sassenach, I want to feel you cumming around my cock.” He rubbed lightly over my clit with two of this fingers.

 

No sooner had the words escaped his lips, that the wave of my orgasm came crashing. It was so intense I felt as though I’d blacked out, I could only faintly hear him crying out his release. He held onto my hips as he poured himself inside me.

 

We laid down beside each other, he kissed my nose and ran his fingers through my hair. He was insatiable, I already wanted more of him.

 

I peeked up through my lashes at him. “Round two?”

 

He laughed at this. “Give an old man a minute will ye?”

 

I climbed on top of him again. “How can I be of assistance?”

 

“Fluids. I’ll definitely need more fluids. And food too.” He got up, without dressing, and proceeded to scoop me up into his arms before gently setting me down on the ground. “But it is you, beautiful maiden, whom I shall be serving.”

 

I’d never been too conscious of my naked form, and I took Jamie’s lead; remaining naked and followed him into the kitchen.

 

We talked a great deal over the early lunch Jamie procured for us, we spoke of nothing everything. The chicken salad had been delicious, enough to fuel the fire in our loins once more. All it took was one lusty look from me, and he strode right over, picked me up and pushed his cock right into my still slick opening.

He walked in search of a spot to continue the fun, the both of us still joined; his cock rooted in me. He pinned me up against the wall of his living room, biting my bottom lip, his tongue seeking my mouth.

 

“You are ever so sweet, Claire, I’m no’ sure I’ll ever get enough of ye.”

 

I was just about to respond when a knock at the door interrupted me. I looked at Jamie with my eyes wide, stifling a giggle. He held onto me steadfastly, and walked us to get the enormous tartan on his couch. “I’m sure it’s just Rupert, wantin’ to go out, let me get rid of him.”

I tried to squirm out of his arms, but he wouldn’t have it, and wrapped the tartan around us both until it hid all of our parts. I held onto him tightly as he answered the door.

 

“Jenny.” Jamie almost dropped me when he saw who the unexpected caller was.


	16. Chapter 14: Wrath of Janet Fraser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GUYSSS!! Thank you so much for all of the love i’ve been getting here and on Tumblr, so overwhelmed!!!

Chapter 14: Wrath of Janet Fraser

 

I was poised for whatever barrage of insults came at us, Jenny was looking at us as though something foul smelling was under her nose; lips pinched and nose scrunched.

Jamie and I had no choice but to stay joined, as we had nothing but the tartan between us.

Mortified didn’t even begin to cover how I was feeling. Jamie had lost all traces of good humour, and he didn’t appear overly keen to be the one to break the awkward silence hanging between us. I did my best to put on a brave face despite the vulnerability of our position, the irony was not lost on me that I’d asked Jamie to warn me before meeting his family so that I could put on my ‘armour’, and now not only was I armour-less, I had nothing on save the suit I was born with.

 

Jenny recovered her wits. “Jamie are ye no’ goin’ to invite me in?” She was testing us. Jamie (and I) stepped aside to permit her entrance. She made herself comfortable on the sofa, all the while smiling to herself like a cat who’d been given cream.

 

“I’ll be with ye presently, Janet.”

 

I hugged myself to Jamie, staring over his shoulder at Jenny as he walked us to his room. She hadn’t bothered to turn around to watch our spectacle, I worried about what might be coming.

 

 

I felt infinitely childish. Once the door closed behind us I leapt out of Jamie’s arms.

 

“Why on this earth did you have to insist on keeping me with you? Your sister is likely out there thinking that you are with some kind of charlatan!” The colour was rising in my cheeks, I just wasn’t certain if it was with anger, embarrassment or lust. Jamie’s naked form served to distract me again.

 

“Christ Claire, I swear to ye, I had no idea it would be Jenny, she doesna visit often.” He breathed heavily, every breath impatient. “I need to dress, she’s here for a reason, and I mean to find out what. Ye can stay here if ye like, or come with me.”

 

This was the first time since being reunited that Jamie had been so severe with me. Clearly Jenny’s appearance had struck some sort of a nerve in him.

 

I took a courageous step towards him (more courageous than I felt by a long shot). “Of course I’ll go with you, you fool. I don’t mean to stay in here and have her think that I’m too cowardly to face her.”

 

We quickly tidied ourselves up, both of us dressing, and me trying to make my hair sit in a somewhat flattened fashion.

 

“Ready?” He asked.

 

“Yes, I suppose so.”

 

He took my hand in his and kissed it. “Dinna fash, Sassenach, everything is fine.”

 

. . . . . .

 

Five minutes later it had become clear that everything was not, in fact, fine.

I had attempted to introduce myself to his sister upon our re-entrance, but had simply acted as though I wasn’t there, not even sparing a glance at the proffered hand I held out to shake hers. Instead she had begun to tear figurative strips off of Jamie.

 

“HOW COULD YE JAMIE FRASER! WILLIE TOLD ME EVERYTHING, YE SAID YE WANTED HIM TO BE HAPPY! ” She screeched. It became immediately clear that while Jenny might have been small in stature, her presence was formidable.

 

Jamie looked bewildered. It was apparent that whatever he might have considered to be his sisters reason for coming, it had not been this. Whatever this was.

 

“Before ye carry on yelling, Janet, would ye mind telling me what it is that I’ve done to offend ye?” He asked the questions calmly, but his slanted eyes were narrowed accusingly.

 

“Ye ken fine well what it is ye’ve done James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser”.... Good lord had I heard all those names? Surely not. “Willie called me today, telling me that he got a lovely stack of paperwork courtesy of you, something to pass along to his wife”.....

 

He cut her off. “Aye I did, but only because the stubborn mac na galla wouldna call me back!” He said hotly.

 

I’d retreated to a kitchen bar stool, keeping my distance from them while they had it out, there was no sense getting tangled up in it. The back and forth had become like watching a tennis match, each trying to claim the set, but there wasn’t a clear winner yet.

 

Jenny straightened up, she looked like a wolf sizing up her prey. She growled. “Do ye no think that discussing a pre-nup with him might ha’ been done in person brother?”

 

Jamie became visibly uncomfortable at this question, like a worm on a hook. “Of course I did Jenny, but I dinna ken anymore when he’s home, and even if he is; whether he’d see me! Our dear brother doesna seem interested in much to do with me if ye hadna noticed!”

 

“That is no excuse, and ye know it. He says Laoghaire is worrit, and doesna know if she can marry someone who wants a pre-nup. I ken what ye think of her Jamie, but Ian didna sign anything.”

 

“Christ’s blood Jenny.” He spat. “Ye know it’s different with Ian, we’ve known him our whole lives.” They were almost nose to nose. “The pre-nup protects us all, including you.”

 

The words resounded, Jenny stood stock still.

 

“Aye it would affect me, but it would affect me more if we lost Willie. And we will, Jamie if ye dinna start thinking before ye act.” She said this so quietly, the words full of menace.

 

“I do think, Janet, I think of ye, Ian, Willie, yer bairns, everyday. But I won’t take it back, Laoghaire signs the pre-nup or she goes. If Willie fights, I’ll cut him off.”

 

Jenny turned to face the fire place, contemplative, and for the time resigned. I got up from my seat, meaning to approach and comfort Jamie, he had been watching me out of the corner of his eye.

“Stay put Sassenach, I’m ok.”

I moved towards him anyway, reaching him and feeling the security of his hand enclosing mine.

 

“Why don’t we discuss the Sassenach, Jamie?” She was still turned away from us. Her words were slow and careful, each one meant to sting. “Not only has this, this....” She seemed to be struggling to find the word she wanted. “Whore...” Ahh there it was. “Wormed her way back into yer life, she seems to be makin’ herself quite comfortable. I want to know Jamie, do ye plan to give her a pre-nup if it gets serious with ye two?”

 

I held my breath when she asked this, and I felt sure that Jamie wasn’t breathing either. I considered waiting for his response, but a voice inside me was being quite insistent about the fact that it was my turn to speak up.

 

I drew myself to full height. “Actually, Jenny, I would sign a pre-nuptial agreement if Jamie and I were to get married some time in the future. My name is Claire, by the way, just for your reference. I don’t need your brothers money, I earn fairly well myself.” I was fine, everything was fine, this would be fine.

 

She swivelled around, meeting my eyes with a fiery gaze. “I ken who you are, Claire, I just didna want te address ye as such because I think it’s more than ye deserve te give ye the time of day.” Her cutting words pierced the exterior of my soul, and things were beginning to flood out that I had desperately tried to keep at bay. Ignoring my reaction she continued. “Ye hurt Jamie, worse than I’ve ever seen; even when he came back from the war, injured and all! But this visit isnae about ye, I canna control Jamie when it comes te his love life.”

 

Jamie’s presence was thunder, he shook with rage. “YE ARE OUT OF LINE JANET MURRAY, YE WILL NOT SPEAK TO CLAIRE THAT WAY!” He turned to me taking my face in this hands; wiping away the tears that had begun to flow, and muttering soft Gaelic sounds to me as he pressed his lips to my forehead.

 

Rather than do what most might have done, and retreat, Jenny kept on. “Ye see how ye protect her, Jamie, that is how Willie seeks to protect his bride to be. Will ye no’ consider what I’m saying? We’ve lost enough with màthair and Da, I canna lose Willie too.” The sharp edge to her voice had all but disappeared.

 

He directed me back towards the bar stool I had been sitting on.“Stop Jenny, stop now. Ye’ve said yer piece, now ye can get out of my apartment. I’ll think on what ye’ve said, but ye need to think about what ye might lose if Laoghaire doesn’t sign, what yer bairns might lose.” Jamie looked at her squarely in the face. I was silently thankful for the small distance between them.

 

Jenny Fraser seemed contemplative, but neither face or stance betrayed what she might have been thinking.

I had been about to suggest a truce when Jenny doubled over in apparent pain. In the flurry of heated words I’d forgotten she was pregnant. A small voice in my head said ‘she’s faking’, but I dismissed it, the woman before me was in agony and had gone white as a sheet.

 

Jamie rushed to her, leading her over to the couch. “Jenny.” His voice was panicky and almost unrecognisable. “Ye need to sit down, are ye ok? Is the bairn alright?” He seemed to stop himself, realising that she likely wouldn’t be able to answer all of these questions.

 

I reacted quickly, setting about getting a glass of water and a cool towel. I passed them to Jamie who put the cool towel on Jenny’s forehead and tried to get Jenny to drink.

 

“I’m sorry Jenny, I’m so sorry.”

 

“I’m ok Jamie, dinna fash. It’s ok now, the pain has gone.”

 

“Ye need to go to a hospital Jenny.”

 

“Nae, I’ll go my doctor tomorrow morning.”

 

“Well then we’ll drive ye home, I couldna look Ian in the face if I dinna do something for ye.”

 

She seemed to concede that she wouldn’t be able to drive herself home, and sighed in assent.

 

“I’ll pack a bag, and we’ll leave as soon as ye’ve finished the water and had something to eat.” In a flash he was rifling through his pantry looking for something he could give her, settling finally on a stack of sweet biscuits. He set them down in front of her. “Eat those, ye need sugar.” His eyes met mine, pleading, I knew he wanted me to stay with him. To tell the truth; I didn’t want to leave him. Bringing his arms around me, he shepherded me up and out of the chair towards his room.

I whispered “Will she be ok Jaime?”

 

“I dinna ken Sassenach. I hope so, good timing she’s got, I was about to throttle her.” I sensed his need to make a lightness of the situation, but his tensed form told me just how concerned he was. He’s busied himself stuffing clothes into a bag. I came up behind him to hug him.

 

“Will ye come Claire? To take Jenny back to Lallybroch?” He asked softly.

 

“Yes I’ll go with you. But I don’t have clothes with me. I need to change and pack something.” I was in the gym clothes I’d been wearing almost all day, I wanted to shower, even if it was only for two minutes. I needed peace and warmth.

 

“Ye’ve got time Claire. I’ll wait for ye, it isn’t as though ye live far.” He smiled at me.

 

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

 

. . . . . .

 

Half an hour later we were racing through the dark streets of Edinburgh, heading towards the countryside where Lallybroch lay hidden. I didn’t much think about the significance of meeting Jamie’s relatives, I was tired; physically and mentally. Jenny was on laying on the back seat of the car, breathing the soft and relaxed breaths of sleep. I watched the rise and fall of her chest for a time, my gaze lingering for a biton the swell of her stomach, I hoped the baby within was safe. As though my thoughts were loud enough to hear, Jamie took my hand reassuringly.

 

“Are ye alright mo chuisle?”

 

I held his hand to my cheek. “I’m fine Jamie, just a little tired is all.”

 

“We’ll be there soon Sassenach. But before we get there, I want to ask you something.” My heart was pounding, what was he about to ask of me?

“Ask away.” I said coolly.

 

“How are ye at acting?”

 

Of all the questions that he could have asked, this was not what I had been expecting.

 

“I’m not really sure, I’ve been told that I have a glass face, so my guess is that people can tell when I’m lying.”

 

He chuckled. “Aye, ye do, sometimes. I’m asking because tomorrow I mean to smoke Laoghaire out, so that she’ll admit to wanting my brother for his money. But I need yer help.”

 

I glanced back at Jenny to make sure she was still asleep. “I’ll help you. But I want to understand why, and what you mean to do, before I help.”

 

“That sounds fair, I’ll tell ye everything tomorrow Sassenach, when we haven’t got Jenny so close by.”

 

We drove in silence for a while. Both lost in thought. Finally we came to a driveway, shrouded by bushes, only really visible to those looking for it. The house came into view, it was completely dark and deserted except for the one lone light on, where a man could be seen making tea. There was a beautiful vine of roses growing over the archway of the entrance, and I imagined that in the light it would be breathtaking. I looked to Jamie.

 

“Welcome to my childhood home.” He said proudly.

 

“It’s beautiful Jamie,” I said sincerely.

 

“Jenny we’re here.” He shook her leg gently. She rose quickly, as though she’d never been sleeping. I gathered up my things as Jamie opened the doors for both Jenny and I. As I was about to open the door further to step out of the car, Jenny brushed past, and shut the door in my face, leaving a shocked Jamie in her wake.

“Wee ghalla.” He muttered, shaking his head. He reopened the door for me.

 

_So that’s how she wanted to play. Well we’d see how far she’d get with it._

 

I pulled Jamie to me, kissing him with abandon. I folded my arms tightly around his neck, sinking deeper into the kiss, knowing all the while that Jenny would likely be watching us from the window.

She needed to see that I meant to stay with Jamie, to love him.

 

Jamie pulled back slightly, he spoke against my lips. “Dinna think I dinna know what yer doing Sassenach.” He was holding back laughter. “Why dinna ye just wave to Jenny to make sure she’s watching.”

 

I blushed furiously, biting his bottom lip in response. “Not a chance.”

 

 


End file.
